MY LIFE OF CRIME

So, I have a half-brother. I consider myself an only child. I was raised and only child, but I actually have a half-brother. He lived in the same town. We knew who we were to each other....and I saw him only on Christmas day.

Only on Christmas day until I was a freshman in high school....he was a senior. I was excited to tell people he was my brother. Most of my friends knew him and knew who he was to me.

One day, during our health class, the students had been instructed to go to the track. Our health instructor was a coach. Being freshmen, the only way we had to get the 4 blocks was to walk. EXCEPT.......I had a brother with a truck.

I ran up to him, told him the situation, and asked to borrow the truck. He said he would, but he had locked the keys in and was waiting for an extra set, due to arrive during his lunch break. Bummed, I walked out to tell the group of friends who were waiting at the truck.

One "resourceful" student found a coat hanger and actually broke into the truck. Being responsible, and not wanting to miss class, we loaded up as many kids as we could into the back of the truck. I drove....minding the speed limit at all times....and hoping that the cops wouldn't see a truck full of kids being driven by a 15 year old.

We made it to the track, watched part of the meet, the headed back to the school. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot, we all scattered like roaches in the night.

Being the good little sister, I returned the keys to my brother. He stared at me in disbelief. Looking back, I think he would NOT have let me take the truck. LOL. He had a good excuse....little did he know that I would break in and steal unlock and borrow his truck.

I got home at a normal time, sat at the normal table and had a normal meal with my family....until my mother said, "Did anyone see you?"

"Huh?"

"Did anyone see you?"

(daddy) "Did anyone see what?"

(me) "Uh.....what?"

(mother, turning to my dad) "Your daughter borrowed your son's truck and drove a bunch of students down to the track for a class."

(daddy) "REALLY? Did you get caught?"

(me...with a grin) "No, sir."

(daddy)"Well, I hope this doesn't happen again." *chuckle*

I then proceeded to tell them the story. They did laugh....and gave me the look that said I should be in trouble. I didn't get into trouble, but I don't know (still) how they found out.

My life of crime was short lived. The town I grew up in was too small to get away with anything.

HERE'S YOUR SIGN

It was sought after.


There were several in the county.


But, for awhile, only 1 with fewer than 2 bullet holes in it.


I don't remember who actually did the work for me. I know I didn't do it.


It fit perfectly in the back of my Celica.....she was a sweet ride, red...5-speed.


I found a companion piece.


Nothing vital.


Just red....to match my car....


...and go with the bright yellow and black of the other.


Heavy metal.


Sends a thrill up your spine.


Makes you feel cool.


Makes you feel like you are gonna puke....


.... especially when your dad wakes you up and says that cops are looking in your car.


It wasn't THAT illegal....was it?


The only escape....to return them.


Return them to a county official.


To return them to......


MY GRANDFATHER!

WHEN I WAS A KID

I grew up in a small town. A town where football ruled during the fall. Summers were filled with Little League Baseball and hours of swimming. To go to a mall, or a movie, one simply had to drive to the nearest "big city" (pop. 108,000), a mere 30 miles away.

I grew up as an only child, but I had 2 cousins that lived in the house just across the street. One cousin is 10 months younger and her brother 3 years younger. We did everything together for YEARS. We lived in an area of town that was right on the line separating the blacks and the whites.

Now, if you know me at all, you know that I'm not being racist in the slightest...also, if you lived in my town (or know the area) you know that I speak the truth when I say that there was a wall (which is still standing, by the way) that kept the whites in their neighborhood and the blacks in theirs. My kindergarten building used to be the black school. I often walked passed the shut-down black pool, and would swing and slide in the white park...being able to see the black park. The only thing we lacked were the signs that indicated the drinking fountains for "colored only." (And I'm sure they were there at one point.)

SO....my cousins and I would play in the street (on this border) a game that we made up. The street that crossed between my house and my cousins' house was 2nd street. It led to a grocery store (going East) and led into the black neighborhood (going West). Then going North, Katherine Street would go to the livestock pens and finally, going South, the road would lead to the swimming pool. (That was desegregated.)

The name of this game was "CAR!" And let me tell you....HOURS of fun, my friend. HOURS we would play this game...standing in the middle of the the intersection. We were lucky to spot about 10 cars an hour, but we loved it.

This is the gist of the game....

We decided that we couldn't have anyone driving a car see us. What would happen? We haven't a clue, so stealthy we were...so good at avoiding detection...we were never spotted, thus never finding out what horrors awaited the one who was caught.

Our escape was simply running to my yard to hunker down behind the 2 foot tall, cinder block fence. OR, we could run to my cousins' yard to peer twixt the branches of the Crape Myrtle. As this would only work when the thing was in bloom and leafed out, we would often find that we had no choice but to throw ourselves on the ground face first, flat as we could get and eyes pinched shut....because you know the rule....if you can't see them, they can't see you!

Our warning system was the most sophisticated of the day. We would stand and watch for cars. When one was spotted, all shimmery in the heat, floating on the apparent lake that hung on the horizon, we would holler at the top of our lungs, "CAR!" Then we would give the location. This information was vital to our escape plan.

Now, before I go on....let me refer you to paragraph 3. I am NOT racist, but my grandfather was, as was a lot of the town. Nurture over nature my friend...we talked as any self-respectin' redneck was expected to talk.

So the following are the 4 most common warnings that could be heard:

"CAR! Coming down Circle M Road!"

"CAR! Coming down N****r Road!"

"CAR! Coming down Pool Road!"

"CAR! Coming down Sheep Pen Road!"

Creative, no?

So difficult was the game if there were 2 cars coming from 2 different locations at the same time.

You will be happy to know that neither my cousins, nor I, ever got caught. We were able to escape the cars, as well as our prejudices, to lead relatively normal lives.