Another Lame Story From Nick's Youth

I get a lot of crazy looks and arguments whenever I try to defend winter. While I admit that at times the season can be a huge pain in the ass it also has its good side as well. The following is probably my favorite of all my winter stories. (Not that it is particularly interesting but it is a night that I will never forget no matter how senile I get.)

The following takes place in the winter of my senior year of high school, which would have been like January of 1987. A couple of friends and I had made plans to go out that night. I developed this aversion at some point in my teen years to spending any night at home. This was a problem in that I didn’t get my license until December of 86. In the spring and summer I was fine as I could bike almost anywhere. However when it got cold out it meant that I was at the mercy of Dell (and the legendary Impala) or before we hung out with him Chris Dusza and his blue Ford Escort wagon. I would sit waiting in my living room pacing and looking out the window every fifteen seconds waiting for my ride so I can get out of the house and explore all the excitement that awaited me in the Southwest burbs like the Nottingham Buddhist temple or Chicago Ridge Mall. (In case it doesn’t come across I am being completely sarcastic.)

Anyway, this night in particular was a Friday. I had made plans to hang out with Chuck and Zar. (Dell and the rest of the gang must have been busy that night.) As per usual we had no particular agenda, the simple fact we were out of the house and away from our parents and rules was going to be enough. The three of us all had gym class together so, we talked about going out that evening with anticipation of what the night just might have in store for us.

As I got home, it started snowing and it was coming down pretty good. Soon, it looked as if are plans were in serious jeopardy. I quickly turned on the news and found out that there was a winter snow advisory. (Remember before the internet when you actually had to get information by watching your local news.) Slowly I was resigning myself to the fact I was going to be stuck in the house on a Friday night. (A complete travesty when you are 17.) I called my friend Chuck to concede to the weather when he said, “fuck it, let’s go out anyway.” That was all the convincing I needed. Chuck jumped into his late 70’s brown Pontiac Aster picked up Zar and my ass and we hit the very slick roads.

We really had nowhere to go but we were out of prison (our collective houses.) One memory was watching as a Ford Granada spun out on Roberts Rd and wound up facing the on-coming traffic. For the most part we drove around aimlessly bullshitting in the car and enjoying one of our earliest tastes of freedom.

And some point we got the bright idea to do donuts in Signode’s (a local business) yet unplowed parking lot on 71^st street. Well as I am sure you can predict, we got stuck and when I say stuck I mean we were in the middle of the parking lot and the car would not budge no matter how much Zar and I pushed it. If it were not for some helpful passerby we might have been walking home.

Looking back we had no business being out joy riding in those conditions but it was like collectively we bonded together to beat the snow. It was not going to get the best of us or ruin our plans. All, in all it was a typical night for me in 1987. My friends and I went out, drove with no particular destination in mind, got in an adventure, listened to bad music, (quite possibly the return of Bruno) ate bad food, and I would not have traded it for the world. I guess people in Phoenix who don’t know the joys of winter can bond when the air conditioner goes out in their car on a brisk autumn night.