We Were Living Hard & Fast, & When Things Got Tough, We Picked Up Stakes & Moved On...
Moose and I arrived in South Florida just after New Year's (1976), and by late April, we were in an Oldsmobile Cutlass driving back to Massachusetts. It seemed like we'd been there a lifetime, but in reality, it had only been four months.
A lot had happened in that time, and it felt good to be on the road, putting it all behind us and getting another chance to start over. I was still six weeks away from my 20th birthday, and I was disillusioned, believing I had forever to straighten out my life, which had gone completely off the rails.
I took the wheel of the Cutlass and drove the first leg of the journey speeding my brains out, sipping beer, and smoking weed. I took us through Florida, Georgia, and midway through South Carolina. For the most part, it was an uneventful ride. I drove the speed limit, which back then was 55.
By the time Moose took the wheel, we were in a partying mood. Our only responsibilities were to avoid being pulled over and return the car to the agency with a full tank of gas and without any damage, and we had two and a half days to do it.
We weren't honoring the contract we had with the agency. We were towing a trailer, and I wasn't 21, which was the requirement for driving their cars. We had a stolen U-Haul trailer attached to the bumper hitch we stole from a gas station. Not to mention, we had weed, beer, and speed, all of which we were driving under the influence of. We had crossed the line and, for the most part, were oblivious to it.
We were young, and most of what we did was spontaneous. We acted on impulse without thinking of consequences, and it felt so liberating at the time.
We only stopped at rest stops to use the bathroom and get some fast food we ate while we drove. We were determined to make the trip in 24 hours, which would give us enough time to empty the trailer and then dump it before turning the car in…
We made it through the Carolinas and Virginia, and just after dusk, we paid a toll and entered Maryland. Suddenly, there were blue lights behind us and the frightening sound of an angry siren. Moose immediately pulled over. We weren't even 100 feet from the toll booth. Our worst nightmare had come true. There was a "Smokey" in our rearview mirror…
A Maryland State Trooper got out of his cruiser, approached the Cutlass's driver's side window, and motioned for Moose to roll it down. The trooper was wearing a Campaign Hat with a chin strap, which was initially intimidating; forget the shiny pistol he had strapped to his side in a leather holster.
We were fucked. I immediately started thinking about going to jail and how we really weren't much different from Butch, a career criminal, and Tom, a Nam Vet who was addicted to speed. And Cindy, who Moose nicknamed "The Drift". In retrospect, everyone we met in South Florida were drifts, including us. We were all living hard and fast, and when things got tough, we picked up stakes and moved on. A luxury of being young, I guess…
The trooper did his job and barked out, "License and registration…" I reached into the glove box for the registration, and Moose pulled his wallet out of his back pocket while the trooper shined his flashlight in the car, watching our every move…
After looking at the paperwork, the trooper instructed Moose to step out of the car. After he patted him down and told me not to move, he led Moose back to his cruiser and put him in the back seat. I remained in the car, scared shitless. I had no idea what was going on.
After 10 minutes, I was getting concerned. Ten minutes later, with Moose still sitting in the back of the cruiser, there was reason to think the worst. I was afraid to turn around because I thought it would make me look guilty, so I kept my eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. I was starting to sweat, my breaths were becoming short and labored, and I could feel my heart pounding deep inside my chest.
What the fuck was going on, and why was it taking so long?
There I was completely wasting, out of work and down
All inside it's so frustrating as I drift from town to town
Feel as though nobody cares if I live or die
So I might as well begin to put some action in my life
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
Breaking the law, breaking the law
To be continued…
*All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental…