Rollin' Down The
Highway
by Don Drewniak
It was the
last Saturday in August 1961 and we were rollin’
down Route 6 heading back to Fall River. Lenny
was behind the wheel of his hand painted, split
windshield 1947 Kaiser. (Honest.) Mitch was
sitting up against the passenger door of the
front seat and I was scrunched in the middle.
Before we go
any further, a word or two if you please about
the Kaiser. Lenny inherited it from a relative
who had passed to the Great Beyond. The car was
badly in need of a paint job. In order to save
money, he bought a gallon of flat-gray house
paint, two brushes and enlisted Mitch as his sous
artist.
Permit me to
further digress. In addition to the paint job,
the Kaiser boasted one other unique feature
— a bullet hole through the middle of the
passenger side windshield. As to how it got there,
that knowledge has unfortunately passed into the
dustbin of history.
Lenny and I
were at lunch in our high school cafeteria on a
bitterly cold Friday in February. Seated next to
us were four other intellectuals when Lenny
banged his fork several times against the table
top. This was a week or two after he came into
possession of the Kaiser.
“Gentlemen,
your attention. I have an announcement to make.
Eat your hearts out, I have a date tomorrow night
with Diane.”
“How much
are you paying her?” I asked.
“Shut up!
Now, as some of you know my car has a bullet hole
through the passenger windshield. That is my ace-in-the-hole.
“Goes
with the hole in your head,” chimed in one
of the intellectuals.
“Shut up
and listen. It’s going to be as cold
tomorrow as today. That cold air is going to
blast in through the hole at her head. She’s
going to have to slide up against me to stay warm.”
“Probably
open the door and jump out,” added another
intellectual.
We all nodded
our agreement as the bell sounded to clear us out
of the cafeteria.
I ambled over
to Lenny’s early Sunday afternoon. He was
sitting at a piano methodically tapping on one
key with his right index finger.
“How’d
the big Diane date go?” I asked.
Lenny kept
tapping the same key and answered saying one word
with every tap. “She…sat…with…her…ass…as…close…to…the…door…as…she…could…get…it.”
He kept on
tapping. I left.
Back to our
rollin’ down the highway tale. Not only was
it the last day in August, it was the Saturday
before each of us would be starting college.
Three separate colleges. We had been to a house
party in New Bedford hosted by someone Lenny knew
from his summertime job in Cape Cod.
There were too
many guys and not enough girls prompting us to
leave before ten. Each of us had consumed five
beers from the three six-packs we brought with us.
Mitch grabbed the three unopened ones and off we
went.
From New
Bedford, we passed by Lincoln Park, the area’s
famous amusement park, when Mitch opened one of
the cans and we began passing it back and forth.
We were doing about seventy (yes, the Kaiser
could go that fast without bumpers and fenders
falling off) when Mitch screamed, “Cops,
cops, red light on and coming up fast.”
In a calm
voice, Lenny said, “Chuck the can out the
window. I’ll lose ‘em.”
He floored it.
I blessed myself three times even though I had
stopped going to church when I was eleven. Lenny
took a sharp right about a quarter mile later.
Still sounding
calm, Lenny said, “Hold on.”
There was a
row of high hedges on the right. He hit the
brakes, skidded off the road and came to a stop
behind the hedges. My pulse was racing like that
of a humming bird, sweat was cascading out of
every pore in my body and I was fighting not to
puke.
“Duck,”
said Lenny. We ducked. I had my hands pressed
against the back of my head, eyes closed and my
forehead pushed under the dashboard. Seconds
passed into two or three minutes and then came
wrapping on the driver’s side window.
I lifted my
head and opened my eyes, A spotlight was focused
on us from a squad car parked about twenty feet
behind the Kaiser. There were two cops with drawn
pistols, one (Cop #1) was standing outside the
driver's side window. Cop #2 was outside of the
passenger side window.
Lenny rolled
down his window. Without a trace of emotion, he
asked, “Yes, officer?”
“What the
hell do you assholes think you’re doing?”
There was an
exchange between Lenny and the cop. Unfortunately,
I don’t remember a word of it as I was
fighting not to pass out and/or heave.
What I next
heard was the cop barking out, “License and
registration.”
Lenny pulled
out his wallet, fished through it and handed the
license to the cop. Then came two sentences from
Lenny that I will never forget. “Mitch, open
the glove compartment and grab the registration.
It’s right on top of my army induction
papers.”
Induction
papers? What the hell? They may shoot us when
they find out he’s lying.
Cop #2 pointed
his pistol at Mitch, looked directly at him and
said, “Easy.”
Mitch passed
the registration to Lenny who passed it to Cop #1.
Meanwhile, I could see that we were on a lawn.
There was a house located about a hundred feet
from the hedges. It seemed that every light in
the house and porch was on. A man was standing on
the porch,
As soon as Cop
#1 checked out the registration, his voice
softened. “You going into the Army?”
“Yes, I
can’t afford college, so I figure I can save
enough while I’m in and then go to college.”
Please, please
don’t ask for the induction papers. We’ll
be in jail. There goes college.
Cop #1 then
headed toward the house to speak to the guy on
the porch who was the apparent owner.
He returned a
few minutes later, “Take everything you need
with you. Leave the key in the ignition. It’s
five bucks (about fifty-three nowadays) each for
the lawn damage.”
Lenny stuck
out his palm, looked at me and said, “Let me
borrow a fiver.”
Never get that
back.
Cop #1 stuffed
the license, registration and fifteen bucks into
his left shirt pocket. “Get out of the car
and start walking. Don’t even think about
hitching. You gentlemen can get the car tomorrow
morning at headquarters.”
Lenny grabbed
everything that was paper in the glove
compartment, rolled it up and stuck it in a rear
pant pocket.
Off we went on
what was about a three mile walk.
“You guys
think he gave the money to the owner?” asked
Mitch as we entered the outskirts of Fall River.
“Like
hell he did,” I answered. “We paid them
get out of jail money.”
I picked up
Lenny around ten the next morning. As we entered
the police headquarters’ parking lot, Lenny
breathed a sign of relief when he saw the Kaiser.
In he went. Out he came ten minutes later with
keys, license and registration.
“You get
a ticket?”
“Nope.”
Lenny opened
the driver’s door, checked out the floor in
back of the front seat and then looked under it.
“Dammit, they swiped the two cans of beer.”
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