John used to give me a ride to school on Friday evenings to get ready for the football games. Arriving in full band costume, dark shades, and usually with AC/DC blaring, I'm sure that the neighbors often wondered "What the...???".
One particular day, as we left my house in Poplar Springs subdivision, John turned to go down the big steep hill and decided to give the ol' accelerator a little stab. As if anything under John's foot would just get a "little" stab...
Instead of letting completely off the gas as we fish-tailed down the hill, John kept stomping on and off the gas as he kept yelling "hang on Jimmy!!! (stomps gas) Hang on Jimmy" (stomps gas) Hang on... (etc) as I slid to and fro on the vinyl bench seat... head smashed against the window on one fish-tail, and much too close to John for my (and his) comfort on the next fish-tail. Eventually, we made it to the bottom of the hill, only to be heading straight for Michael Robertson's house... still on the gas. Fortunately there was a curb that John's mighty blue Dodge hit head-on, splaying the front tires out in opposite directions. I started to climb out to survey the damage but John already had the big Dodge in reverse and was yelling "let's get the ____ out of here". Nevermind that the front tires tended to let out a squealing objection as we limped down Stapp Drive at 4.2 miles an hour, attracting even more stares than we did coming down the hill. Eventually his dad came and picked us up... I don't quite remember John's explanation. Those were great days!