When I was young and knew everything about anything,
I did stupid things.

Can you relate to that?

I Am the Speed Bump

^{Watch me die.}

I miss those days. The carefree attitude and those friends who just wanted to have fun.

We would buy 40's of Colt 45. We called it beer. Cheap beer. Cheap beer that could give you one hell of a buzz in a matter of minutes. We would even keep the brown paper bag and wrap it tightly around the bottle.

That was the only way we could be gangsta, you see. When you watch and listen to enough 90's gangsta rap, you want to be those guys. Of course, we didn't talk like them. There were a few words in those songs that people who look like me simply aren't allowed to say. That made sing-alongs difficult, but we managed. I even got to sit in a '64 Impala once. That was probably one of my best days ever.

My G-Ride was a Mazda

^{It had four doors, it was blue, and I owned it so technically it wasn't a g-ride.}

Being two years away from legal drinking age meant having access to this liquor was actually quite easy. All we had to do was get at friend who looked like he was nineteen, and we were good to go. Some days we decided I looked the oldest, other days it was my friend J. Dave had the best beard though so we made sure to keep him around, just in case.

So, in I go and out I come with ten of these bottles and a big smile on my face. There was nothing more satisfying than conning a liquor store clerk into thinking you're allowed to be doing what you're doing.

Of course, once we had the bottles we knew it was time to get the hell out of town. Perfect driving all the way. All it would take is one cop who knows what a brown paper bag smells like to ruin our evening and we knew that.

---

That's just my school lunch, officer.

"Step out of the vehicle, now!"

---

We knew where the best hiding spots were. We could sit for hours with the music cranked and nobody would ever bother us.

Old gravel pits at the end of sketchy back roads were prime real estate for happy teenage drinking fun time.

Some people were nice and they'd drop off old refrigerators and furniture for us to destroy and light on fire. When we ran out of things to wreck, we could always throw rocks and smash bottles. Yes, life before Ipods was intense and worth living.

The Sun Goes Down

^{And the Marilyn Manson tape needs to be flipped.}

Time to go, but I'm too drunk to drive.

J was always the best at pretending to be sober so I handed him the keys and away we went. Into the darkness that is the back road out, with the headlights off, so the farmer doesn't see and chase us with his tractor again.

From back roads to back streets. We knew we needed to keep a low profile. Those gangsta rap tapes taught us everything we'd ever need to know. We were the warriors of this urban jungle that was small city Saskatchewan.

Parking in front of the apartments where many of the inhabitants probably have warrants or drugs was wise because we knew they wouldn't call the cops on us.

Life gets a bit boring though, once the beer is gone, and it's almost time to go home so people start acting like jerks and think it's funny. J decided to grab my awesome hat and throw it out of the moonroof. It landed on the windshield directly in front me. They all laughed and of course I wasn't angry but I did want my damn hat back. I knew if I got out of the car, J would drive away. He had played this little game with me before so I wasn't taking any chances. I decided to open the door, stand on the ledge, reach for my hat; right then and there, J decided to start the car and drive, just to mess with me. I couldn't reach my hat and I was holding on to the car with all of my strength, J speeds up.

I Slipped

^{It all happened so fast.}

I hit the pavement. The impact forced my body to go under the car. The back tire went right over my limp left arm, shoulders and upper back, narrowly missing my neck. I heard what I would sound like if I was a speed bump and Cara's screams at the same time. I was then dazed, winded, saw stars; passed out.

I came to, still dazed, I focused, my friends were gathered around me, except for J; he was off hitting his head on a power pole and calling himself stupid.

I got up, nothing was broken, I had a bit of road rash and a few cuts, I was bleeding; but I felt no pain, at all, nothing. It was like nothing happened. I literally bounced up and started laughing, "Holy fuck, you guys, I just got ran over by my own fucking car!"

Everyone was shocked. I was half dead one second and right back to my normal self shortly after.

I Needed a Few Bandages Though

^{Couldn't go to the hospital because they would call my parents.}

I walked into the nearest convenience store only to find out they would not allow me to use their washroom, "looking like that," nor would they let me use their first aid kit.

That behavior of theirs was quite inconvenient and I made sure to let them know by grabbing a handful of magazines and throwing them up into the air behind me. I did not see that gentleman standing there so I made sure to get out before he could strangle me.

Still covered in blood, I decided to go to McDonald's, of all places.

I took a beeline straight to their washroom only to see an old man with a mop and a sign that said I wasn't allowed to be there either.

So, I stood in line, waited for people to order their future heart problems, asked for a large cup of water with plenty of ice, grabbed a handful of their crappy paper napkins, and headed back outside to clean myself up in the parking lot. I don't think anyone who saw me was able to eat their food but I didn't care, this was an emergency.

Genius over here poured the ice into a plastic bag so I could use it to keep the swelling down; done deal. Aside from a ripped shirt and bruised ego, I was feeling good!

True Story

^{Not much else I can say.}

I hope you enjoyed it.

Have a nice day.

Credits: _{All art and images seen here were produced digitally, by me. "Today's lesson: Wear your seat belt. Something like that." [email protected]}

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