Mike and I have known each other for close to 30 years. We grew up in a place where you can smell the sweet mash of a moonshine still in almost every direction, outhouses are still not uncommon, and the term: "Y'all come back now, ya hear." can be heard on a daily basis.
The year was 1984, and I drove this...
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| 76 Chevy Vega |
Until 1986, when I got this...
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| 73 Chevy Monte Carlo |
Around the same time, he got this...
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| 73 Chevy Silverado |
And all of the above were outfitted with one of these...
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| We had a close friend in our circle who's dad used to own a car audio and CB shop. He set us up with our own side-band, basically giving our group another 40 private channels. |
We spent the majority of our teen years running around in these vehicles, doing what teenage redneck rebels do: listening to Foreigner, Rush, Lynyrd Skynyrd, and Hank Jr., going to parties and bonfires, cruising the backroads (where we grew up, they were pretty much ALL back roads) while polishing off a 12 pack of whatever we could get someone over 21 to buy, blowing stuff up, chasing girls, taunting the cops (who did not scare us at all, unless they threatened to call our dads), and raising hell at every opportunity. I am not trying to make us sound like the Dukes of Hazzard, our life was much more fun, because we didn't have to abide by the FCC's laws of censorship.
We were inseparable until 1989, when I moved away to go to school, and he joined the Army. The last time we got together was the holiday season of 1991, and he was home on leave from the Persian Gulf. Remember that? Operation Desert Storm.... The original Shock and Awe! Where we kicked ass and took names.
Believe it or not, we both became productive, gainfully employed members of society, now raising families of our own, and swearing that if our kids pull the crap we did, that we will send them to military school.
