Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Motor-Homies on the open road...

When I was a young lad of 15 I was as eager as anyone my age to get my drivers license. There were a few cats out there who acted like they were very passive about the whole rite of passage, but I firmly believe their bodies we just holding sacks for bullshit. Who didn't want a license, and if lucky a CAR, by the age of 16? I know I did, and I wanted it so bad I could taste the exhaust coming from the garden hose in the tail pipe that I placed ever so gently in my drivers side window...err, scratch that last part.

Unfortunately I got older and had the privilege to experience what in some circles is referred to as "GRIDLOCK"! (and not that shitty Tupac and Tim Roth movie either - actually that was "Gridlock'd yo! on the real) After a few years of chain smoking and throwing the bird to asshole drivers I no like it so good no mo joe! This didn't really kick in until I was about 19 or 20 so I still had a few fun days of driving to reflect on. None were as memorable as the ones from the days BEFORE I had a drivers license.

My father and Step-monkey (Berta, who was around for 11 years before pops decided fella's was where it was at) didn't really jump at the chance to take lil ole me out for some behind the wheel practice. One reason was because they felt I wasn't "deserving" of such a privilege, for reasons we probably agree to disagree on, and also because I practically made them stain the car seats with shit after a couple of disastrous outings with me behind the wheel. For instance, there was my first time behind the wheel when I didn't have the skill of looking to the left WITHOUT veering to the right down too well and almost knocked a pedestrian into the trunk of his own car. Another example was when Berta asked if I wanted to drive her to the supermarket and I was in such shock and joy I all but carried her to the car and threw her in the passenger seat. That time I was so excited to get to drive that in my overzealousness I forgot to put my glasses on and proceeded to drive like a bat out of hell down the street. It was close to dusk yet somehow it got really foggy out and I could barely see the stop signs. OH WAIT! That was just me looking around with out my glasses! I was a good 4 blocks away from the house before I finally fessed up to not being able to see because my glasses were on the kitchen counter. I only fessed up to stop the constant Ethel Merman toned nagging coming from the passenger seat. Needless to say I didn't get to drive home, or with Berta ever again.

Knowing that my days of parental assisted driving lessons were going to be as rare as sightings of the Lochness Monster I had to think of ways to get my driving skills mastered. Even if it was on my own. Luckily during these years my parents were big on taking vacations and spending their evenings eating at fine restaurants...without me. It was annoying at first, but then the light of opportunity all but blinded me! Let them skip town and scarf their delicious steaks! This just meant that I would have ample time to hit the road, and without them knowing too! It was too perfect! Especially because I came to the conclusion that parents just make new drivers paranoid and I was a natural behind the wheel. I just needed the chance to let my driving expertise shine!

The first time I was going to take the driving world by storm was when my parents had left for vacation. My dad had this Toyota truck from the late 70's that he rarely drove and was to be all mine when the big 1-6 hit! (that never happened...ahem) They had newer cars by this time and the truck was just used to haul building materials and anything else that needed to have me do manual labor in the backyard. It was a nice faded yellow and small enough that it was no where near intimidating. Oh, and it was a stick shift too.

Now I had rarely driven an automatic and closest I came to driving a stick shift was when I was left in the car while pops was in a store and I moved around the shifter knob. This wasn't a big deal though. How hard could it be? I grabbed the keys out of the basket and merrily strolled down the front steps that led to the driveway. I could feel the connection me and this little truck had and had no reservations about starting it up and taking on the road. It was my destiny to tame this little yellow bastard! I sit in the car and slip the key in the ignition. I had seen the old man drive the truck many o time and knew that "one pedal" had to be pushed in to move the shifter knob. Oh and lookie here! The knob already had letters on top telling me where to move it! This would be a cinch. I put on my seat belt, look behind me to make sure there was nothing in my way when I went in reverse, then I face forward and turn the key! Nothing. "Wha?!" I think in a slight panic, "was the fucking truck busted!?" I turn the key again and nothing! What the hell was the deal? Then it hit me! I had to step on that one pedal THEN turn the key. Ahh yes, it starts right up with a rev that tells me "C'mon Damon! Let get this fucker rolling!" I look behind me again and realize I've got a crazed grin of excitement on my face and I would probably drive around like that too! I move the knob into the "R" setting and lightly let the "pedal" up. I start to roll back and...start jerking around like a fucking mechanical bull! SHIT! The truck stalls and I have to start all over again. "C'mon Damon, slow and easy gets the job done". I start it up again and start to roll in reverse. I was almost out of the drive way. I give a little more gas and roll out faster. I get out in the street and manage to turn the truck so I was almost facing right down the street. I put the knob in the "d" slot and give it a hint of gas. This was easy! What is the big deal about driving stick? Poo on all you nay-sayers I think to myself! It was just about then that I realized I hadn't straightened out the wheel and sped right into a neighbors bush. The front of the truck had jumped the curb and landed right on top of this huge bush. I finally realized I couldn't really drive stick and I'd best find someone who did and quick! I had to get this fucking truck out of my neighbors bush! I leave the truck where it was and run back in the house to call my good buddy Jason!

Jason's parents had bought him a jetta and took him driving all the time. Luckily the jetta was a stick shift and I knew he was the man to call.
Ring, ring...ring, ring, "HELLO?"
"Hello, this is Damon. Is Jason home?"
"Hey Damon! Sure, hold on..." Jason's mom's had answered the phone and was always so chipper
"Hello" Jason wasn't always so chipper
"MAN I NEED YOU TO HELP ME OUT! I WANTED TO DRIVE MY DAD'S TRUCK AND..." I quickly ditched the calm cool demeanor I had spoke to his mom with and let a tone of the situation at hand reflect in my voice. I spill my guts about the pickle I was in to him and plea for his help.
"What?! HAHA! Uh, let me ask my mom. Hold on" I hear him set down the phone and tell his mom "Damon tried to drive his dad's truck and now he's stuck in a bush! HAHAHA! No, really! He wants to know if we can go get the truck out and put it back in the drive-way? No, I don't think his parents know"
THAT SUNUFABITCH! He sure didn't waste anytime ratting me out to his folks! This was just the beginning of Jason's a-hole ways I would find out later on. To this day he still finds it amusing to rat you out on stuff!
"Hello? Yeah my mom says we'll be there in a bit"
"thanks" Who was I to call him out, I needed the truck moved!

I see him pull up the cul de sac and his mom is in the passenger seat. As I'm walking down the drive-way I sheepishly wave to his mom, "hello Mrs. Deamos..."
"Oh Damon, what are you doing?!", she replies in disbelief and amusement.
"Um, nothing...", what could I say?
It took about 5 mins for Jason to get out his car, jump in my dad's truck and put it back in the drive-way. All while laughing at me. I didn't care, let him laugh! Just put the fucking truck back! He finishes his duty and speeds away as him mom waves good-bye to me. I get the keys out of the truck run back inside and throw them in the key basket with disgust. I hated stick shifts and I hated that truck.

Automatics were where it was at. I let the driving bug go for a month or so before I decided the "Cougar" my Step-monster had recently bought was the car for me. I had driven it once before and I knew I could easily master that car. I ended up taking it for a spin a few times when my parents were out and I really did have the bastard under my control. Seeing as how I could now easily drive a car and I was left home quite a bit I was comfortable enough to pick up buddies for joyrides. Trips to the mall? No sweat, I'll be right over! McDonald's sound good to you? Don't worry I'll take us through the drive thru! Driving was my thing and I was always willing to get behind the wheel...when my parents were out that is.

My driving buddy of choice at the time was my friend Dave (it would have been Jason, but he was a big cherry about this stuff. This would change in later years though). Dave was a master behind the wheel as well and he could even stunt drive too! I had seen him and another buddy of ours stunt drive numerous times. The other fellow was named John. His parents were Korean and owned a sunglass hut at the swap meet so they drove a big van. John was already 16 and used to take the van out once in a while. One day I go to Dave's house and when I get there him and John were sitting in the van with big smiles on their faces. "CHECK THIS SHIT OUT!", they yell to me. John drives up the street a bit and then makes a u turn to come back down the street. As the van charges down the street John climbs out the driver side window and Dave climbs out the passenger window. They both meet each other on the top of the van and hop back in the windows, only now Dave is in the driver seat and John is in the passenger seat! All while the truck is charging down the street! GENIUS I TELL YOU!

One day I call Dave up and tell him to grab his shit, I was going to pick him up. Stunt driving wasn't really my thing, but I wasn't exactly any smarter than that either.

I pick Dave up in the trusty "Cougar" and start off on our journey. We drive around the mean streets of Upland for a bit and our second go-round of Benson Street I have a brainstorm. Since this was a long winding road, wouldn't it be hilarious if Dave lied in the middle of the street, in front of the car like I had hit him?! Yes, yes it would! About halfway down this winding street we manage to contain our laughter and I direct Dave on what would be the best position to lie in. He sprawls out on the middle of the street in front of the cougar, which is parked cock-eyed, and I stand guard, anxiously waiting for cars. Finally I hear the hum of an engine and we get ready for the show. As the car creeps up I Jump out of the car and run to the front in a panicked manner. Dave proceeds to lie still while I run around in circles almost in tears. "OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT!" I yell while prancing around. The oncoming car was driven by some old guy and his equally old lady friend in the passenger seat. I see the old guy give us a look and as they veer around us the old woman puts a hand to her mouth and appears to be in disbelief. Either that or she just found out her kids were shipping her off to a retirement home...naked! SCORE! I start laughing and Dave takes this as his cue to RISE FROM THE GRAVE! He leaps to his feet and runs back to the car buckled over with laughter. Ahh, good times. We figured one car was enough because you never know if the next car might be Uplands Finest (and Upland High's nemesis Officer Doyle) and drove towards the mall.

Down Central Avenue, on the way to the Montclair Plaza, just below the Claremont Colleges, there runs a stretch of train tracks. Running along side of the tracks is a small dead end street with a small cluster of houses, all facing towards the tracks. All of these houses appeared to be run down and occupied by...HOMIES!!! I HATE Homies! Being Mexican, I find this group of guys and gals despicable. What does begin Mexican have to do with anything you ask?! Try being Mexican, then shave your head and wear Nike's running shoes. If you don't get a nasty case of stink eye thrown your way, then I owe you an apology. I don't care if they put on shitty plays like "Duke Of Earl", or better yet "Duke Of Earl II", in their feeble attempts to give back to their communities. They are a shit group of folks!

On our merry adventure in the magical Cougar we found ourselves at the stop sign right before the tracks. Minding our business both of our gazes are drawn to the sound of loud whistling and yelling. Dave and I look to my left and see that the cause of all the ruckus was them damn HOMIES!!! Either these fuckers were letting us know the status of numerous field goals kicked their way, or they were simply throwing their arms out and talking shit. Well, I didn't see any damn footballs around so the gang signs and whistling lead me to believe the latter. We just grimace at them and go about our business. The mall was bunk and we decided to head to the Casa de Barron to regroup.

After hanging about my room for a bit we try and think of fun things to do. Shit, we had a car and all day to burn what could we do? Hmm... It's at this point I notice Dave is fiddling around with my broken BB rifle. Terminator was on a few weeks prior and as a tribute to "Reese" I sawed the stock off of my rifle and taped it up. It kind of looked like the gun in the movie, but it looked more like fun for the afternoon after I had a brainstorm! My eyebrows raised with excitement and I start to fill Dave in on my plan. He was as excited as I was, as I knew he would be, and it was off to the car to get the plan rolling! With broken gun in tow.

I had put the rifle in the trunk before we started off so we wouldn't look like hoodlums trolling around with a firearm. Especially in an uptight neighborhood like Upland. When we got a few blocks from the train tracks on central I pull over and Dave grabs the rifle from the trunk and dashes back into the car. We both put on our sunglasses and lean the seats back a bit, then it's off to the tracks. As expected the Homies stop drinking their Budweiser's and start up with their cat calls. The only difference was this time we had a plan! As I start to roll past the stop sign I drive a few feet then SLAM on the brakes so Dave and I can throw some mad dog stares in the Homies direction. The Homies don't disappoint and start yelling even louder. We just casually roll forward till we pass the cul de sac. A block away we have tears of laughter rolling down our cheeks and make a U turn. Oh no, the plan was only half-way done!

We start back up central and Dave has the rifle in his lap ready to roll! Only minutes from our last run in with the Homies we pull up to the stop sign on the opposite side of the tracks. Instantly the youngest looking Homie start barking his Homies-isms to us. Cool and collected I hit the power windows switch and roll down the window in Dave's side. With lightning quick speed Dave raises the rifle up and in the worst spanish/Homie accent yells "JOR DEAD HOLMES" and starts moving the rifle around like he didn't know where to start blasting! All of the sudden these street hardend Homies transformed into the most agile gymnasts I had ever seen. Almost in a comic manner they start running around, and almost into each other, while some start covering theirs heads. The best were the Homies who managed to take two small hops and one HUGE leap over the planter walls diving for cover. I hit the gas, the engine gives a large charging sound...and we just drive away at a normal jerky speed. Damn, it was a Cougar not a Corvette! What did you expect? I cannot even begin to explain the amusement and satisfaction I felt. Dave was laughing and bouncing about like an epileptic and we decided it was best to gas up the G-ride, get it home and call it a day! Mission accomplished!

Now as I sit and reflect on those wonder years I think to myself, "WHAT A FUCKING IDIOT! WHAT THE HELL WAS I THINKING!?" Really, what the fuck kind of dip-shit teenager was I? Sure times are a little different now, definitely more violent, but that doesn't mean we couldn't have been shot up then! Not to mention that my step-mofo was a frequent cruiser of Central Avenue and constantly went to the mall! What if one day she was at the stop sign by the tracks and little puppet happens to recognize her car? "Hey?! Sad girl, go call Smiley and tell him to come outside right quick! I think I see that Puto's car who pulled the gun on us aye!" Then we get the call at the house telling my dad to go to the hospital because my step-moco had been shot up by Homies!? How would I keep such a horrid secret from my dad? Better yet, what the hell would I drive!? You know damn well if Berta took a few slugs than the Cougar did too! I wasn't about to start driving that little yellow truck!

I guess if anything my advice to all those who have teenagers who are jonesing for their drivers license, make them wait as long as possible! If you have a feeling they are going to do some stupid shit when they get behind the wheel you are probably right. Trust me! I don't even want to get into the story about when I ran the Aerostar along side an RV! I still can't believe my dad bought my story of damaging the side of the van by running out with a large piece of wood to build a ramp for my car and crashing into it! Maybe it was because I explained it all with a shaky voice and invisible tears? Hmm...

DJB

1 Comments:

Blogger No-aye-mee said...

Yeah i was thinking the same thing toward the end about you and your friend doing something so crazy like that. hahaha. Great story though. That's funny that you refer to the low-life gang members as Homies. And hey, not ALL of them were the typical stereo-typed, "shaved head, nike shoes-wearing, mexicans" that you so diligently claim them to be.

11:30 PM  

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