If they knock on your door on Friday night at 6 PM; you answer, and open and let just a little of that darkness in.
"It's just BP, Ches', and Teddy wanting to hang out for the night." Looking for a 4th, towards someone who just recovered from his 9-5 daily grind.
"I've got the Corvair," Ches' volunteers. "It's all gassed up," and hands me a beer.
Now, my feet really are killing me, and my back is way more than sore. Those two heavy metal desk filled semis were nothing but pure torture. Putting off my lunch hour until 1 PM, without a decent breakfast, put a knot in my stomach no 6oz. of coke could overcome.
I couldn't hide from my buds, the way my eyes blinked at the suggestion; but how I must've looked to them after the workday like the one I'd just had. Almost blew the "OK" as the answer to Ches' inevitable, brutal question.
"Can we get food; before we start on the beer?" was what they all knew I meant. "Coneys!" Yelled Teddy, his favorite chime in, voiding his customary followers silence.
With me in tow, Teddy in the back, BP riding "shotgun," and Ches' steering us all to "The Chili Shack," we lit out for the evening, nursing out first Stroh's, while I felt my exhaustion, now fleeting.
After 3 cheese with onions, and my double helping of fries (the best around) we returned to the Chevy, and the cold cans we previously set down, as the local constabulary pulled up beside. We all lowered ours to the floor, and raised our still sober guards, and eyes. They failed to look over, and headed for the joint, as every cop in the neighborhood already knew about our favorite, local, casual restaurant.
"Pull out easy," was the backseat driving advice from the passenger side. "I've got this," Ches' insisted as we all then relaxed, and let him drive.
It being dusk, you know, when the drive-in flicks just start the previews; we finished our firsts, and BP with his "I'm out," suggested additional, cold fresh ones.
In the days before drive-thru, we had mom & pop groceries, where, for just a few dollars a week you could feed your family. Just to make a few bucks, never a mint, you see, they had to sell 6%, 3.2 % beers, and cheap wine, and whiskey.
Only Teddy was underage, so we took up a collection, his $2.10, BP's $3.00, Ches' $3.25, and my $2.75; and I, alone, went inside to find their cooler selections. "Let's see, $11.10, an 8-pack of Stroh's is $3.35= $10.15, and .95 left. I'll get 4 bags of .25 chips. I know I have another nickel somewhere." I found it in my jeans, right front, coin pocket.
"I could only get 3 8-packs, but we each get some chips to go with it. Anybody need any smokes while we're here?" "I'm flat," came back the chorus. I had about half a pack; the others, way less. "Can't go without them the whole night," was the unison thought, loudly expressed.
"My dad has several cartons in his bedroom closet. If I can sneak back home, and he's not around, maybe at the bar; I can take 4 packs, enough to go around for all of us."
Winston, not my brand, but, close enough. Marlborough it was for a very long time; 2 packs a day, then 3, as I developed a cacophonous, persistent cough.
What every single male of 20 something was looking for was a hookup with a hot chick, not like in the film of that title; but a cute girl with a curvy body to seduce, and play house with. The back seat would have to suffice, if she was willing.
This possibility lost its luster after, no eligible girls were available to us. Later, BP, found one, all on his own. No big shock there. The girls all singled him out for close attention.
So, off to Ches' house we went went for the smokes. No one was there. He got 4 packs from pop's carton, and, it was off to the flicks for the night. Somewhere around the 2nd movie, the beer was gone, and the guys had gone to sleep until it was over. Then, the lights came on, and cars started moving out. We got in the line, and, back on the road; still dreaming about girls.
It must've been about 2AM when Ches dropped me off, home. I fell into bed, and passed out.
