There was a time in my life when I wasn't exactly a saint. Sure there was the normal teenage stuff - driving too fast, smoking the tires, drinking, sex, some drugs but there was more. There was a time when I did some things that could have put me in jail.
I can't remember the dates of these events and they weren't always my idea. (Usually if I wanted to steal something I did it on my own.)
Bennie and the Harley - My sister's first husband was a piece of work. I looked up to him and hated him at the same time. He was fearless while I was not. But I never could have lived his lifestyle.
One night I went over to their house, they were living near Daly Road and Rte 32. My sister wasn't there but Ben asked if I'd give him a ride someplace. Of course I said okay. He gave me directions out toward the Lucky Strike Lanes. As we passed a house he told me to make a u-turn and park. Ben got out of the car, ran across the street and disappeared into the darkness.
Next thing I knew he came running out pushing a motorcycle. As he ran past me he hopped on the bike, yelled "follow me" and bump started the bike. I was stunned but I followed him back to my sisters place. He, I guess we, stole someone's Harley. I don't remember much about the bike except it was chopped some with a huge rear tire.
The VW engine - This happened one night, again I can't remember when. My friend Danny picked me up in his '62 Impala. There were a total of four of us in the car, Danny, Jimmy Shelto, someone else I can't remember, and me. We were going somewhere but Jimmy asked if we could make a quick stop someplace. He directed Danny to parking spot just up the hill from Pelletier's Chevron.
Jimmy got out of the car, opened the trunk and disappeared for about ten minutes. When he came back his hands were greasy and he wanted all of us to get out and help him. We walked to a nearby driveway where there was a VW Beetle with the engine on the ground. We lifted the VW up while Jimmy slid the engine out, then the four of us carried it to Danny's car. The engine fit nicely in the trunk. I guess Jimmy needed an engine.
We heard the next day that the owner of the VW pushed it to Pelletier's because it wouldn't start.
Franc Chevrolet - Not every caper was successful. My buddy Stan and I headed out to Franc Chevrolet on River Road in Willington. I'm pretty sure I was a willing participant in this caper. I don't remember why but Stan wanted a 4-speed and he knew they had a Camaro with one. We drove out in Stan's GTO, parked way back on Baxter Road and lugged a couple of jacks and some tools over towards Franc.
We crossed the road north of the parking lot and walked along the railroad tracks until we got to the back of where the Camaro was parked. We set up the jacks, and raised the car. Stan did most of the work and in no time the trans was almost out. Then a car pulled into the lot.
I don't remember if it was the police (if it was it must have been the State Police) or not but we hightailed it down the embankment, over the tracks and into a marsh next to the river. We stayed there for over an hour, soaking wet, scared shitless. They (whoever) didn't find us but Stan lost two bottle jacks of his dad's and some tools.
We slogged north through the swamp, crossed River Road and sprinted up Baxter to Stan's GTO. We did get home without getting caught. I think we came up with some story about the GTO getting stuck in the mud and losing the jacks in the dark.
I am not celebrating these incidents. They happened a long time ago and I'm not proud of that part of my life but I can't deny it. I believe I learned from them and grown.
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