Rambler, part 1

Peter was the first to get his hands on a car, so we used to go cruising around, smoking cigarettes, listening to the hits on AM radio and engaging in ribald badinage, i.e., trash talk. We rejoiced in our new found freedom, but after a while there was a certain sameness about our nightly perambulations.

Kerr Street to Lakeshore Road to Clarkson to Lakeshore Road  to Bronte to Lakeshore Road to…We then discovered there were only so many times you could cruise the Satellite Restaurant (out of this world food!) or Country Style Donuts.

Photo credit: Christopher Sessums

Freedom was replaced by ennui.

And so, we sought for diversions. We visited beautiful downtown Burlington – once. And then we discovered mooning, which was great fun until Rickie decided to flash an entire K-Mart store on a busy shopping night, after which we decided to lie low for a time. We had also learned that it wasn’t a stunt to pull during the winter months, unless you wanted to show the audience a blue moon.

And that’s why we started tailing people.

The idea was simple; see a car, especially one with girls in it and follow them without alerting them to the tail – which was not that easy to do, especially in a small town, where there was less traffic. It certainly spiced things up, even if a lot of our trips ended at McDonalds or at the Mall.

Early one spring evening, we were heading south on Kerr Street and trying to fight off our boredom when I recognized a vehicle heading north – a black 51 Buick.

“Did you see that thing?” I yelled from the backseat.

“Yeah, that’s an oldie,” Peter said remotely.

“Follow it!” I demanded.

“What for?”

“Just do it.”

Traffic was lighter than usual, so Peter was able to pull a u-ey without consequence and I was able to bring everyone up to speed as we caught up to the Buick at the lights.

“He’s hanging a left on Speers,” Peter said. “You think he’s heading out there?”

“Could be.”

“Hey, maybe we’re gonna see an or-gee at last,” Wimp snickered.

The Buick proceeded west on Speers, with us right behind it. It felt pretty obvious, but there was nowhere to hide; we could only hope the driver (the tall man) was so intent on his destination, he didn’t notice us.

“I don’t like this,” I said. “If he turns right at the Fourth Line, pull into the gas station.”

He turned right.