One afternoon a friend and I were out climbing on the rock climbing tree and just having a couple lazy goes at it to stave off boredom when an old girl friend who had moved to a different town pulled up in the driveway unannounced. The occasion was that she was bored and she had recently received her driver's license and so she decided to come see if I was around and wanted to go for a ride. I did, but so did my friend even after I hinted quite forcefully that his company would not be required for the next portion of the evening. He persisted in not hint taking and went ahead and tagged along. We drove for a little bit and then she told us she had a surprise in the glove box. We were all sat abreast on the bench front seat and my tall friend was passenger most so he opened the box and out fell a couple of Zima and another half-dozen stayed in the bottom heavy and full.
|I am not going to jail for some clear malt beverage.|
She asked if we wanted some and then indicated that she had already had a few and they were good. Great, now I realize I am in a car with an intoxicated driver and at least one open container. Even if I never touched a drop it was going to look very bad if we got pulled over. I was raised pretty conservatively and was forbidden drink but beyond that I had no interest in what smelled like rotten grain to drink. I was at heart a pragmatist and was not thinking of the moral implications of my dilemma so much as what exactly I was going to say to my parents if we got pulled over and caught. I suggested we go somewhere to get out of the car, like up the canyon. She agreed but said she didn't know the way so I offered to drive. We were down to just the open container which I offered to throw out and did without asking. Now just drive smooth and everything was going to be okay. This girl was a little more rambunctious then I had remembered and I was starting to think she might be in another class of naughtiness than we were. Judging from the looks on my friend's face he was feeling the same way. She started turning up the radio and dance in as proactively as it is possible to dance on a bench seat between two passengers. She was writhing and undulating bumping into me while I was trying to drive carefully enough to avoid official intervention. I told her to be a little more careful as we drove up the canyon's winding turns. She feigned a huff and pouted for about thirty seconds and then asked if we wanted her to take off her clothes. Well, the answer to that was yes I wanted her to but once again I felt as having a naked girl dancing in the front seat of the car would draw attention to us and the fact that we had a drunk girl and booze in our car. I told her it was probably best if she kept her clothes on until we stopped so she settled on pulling her bra off while keeping her shirt on, a trick I had never seen before. By this point I was thinking I had made a terrible mistake getting into the car with this girl because she seemed hell bent on getting into some serious trouble and I preferred to live on the edges of trouble where you could feel the thrill and not have to do the time. I was starting to be grateful that my friend was not good at taking hints and he was along for this ride.