demolition team needed.
Actually the best fun was climbing on top of the cars and running from car to car. The interesting part was jumping from one car to the next, not falling and breaking a leg or worse.
And for the heck of it, a ‘sneaked out the window’ 12-gauge shotgun went along for the ride. When necessary, they might have to shoot a harmless duck? Again…
The mighty Rio Grande River (stream) passed through the valley which caused Main Street to end abruptly at the western riverbank, so therefore a turn around existed at the east end of Main. In some ways we thought we were in the fifties, we would be cool and repeatedly ‘drag Main.’
So if you had a stylish car, you were a Big Daddy. Admittedly, sometimes finding girls to talk with, maybe try to kiss, was on the back of one’s mind. And occasionally 3.2% beers from friends who attended the small Adams State College might appear and other times we might notice girls from other San Luis Valley towns like Manassas, a tiny Mormon town just to the south. Talking with them might end up being the temptation for the night. To clarify, Colorado no longer has 3.2% beer, the current beer is higher in alcohol percentage and also, no longer can an 18-year-old legally drink. Now, you must be 21 years old to imbibe.
If beers were involved or not, and girls were agreeable, being careful was always important. Particularly if the girls were older and planning something not necessarily above board, there might be trouble. One night a couple of girls took us out to their home and the result, there was a non-agreed or forced exchange of money from our pocket to the boyfriend’s pocket. Luckily we survived and were no worse for the wear.
During this time, a good friend John, whose Father owned a Skelly gas station, was my partner in crime. John lived outside town towards the ranch and always had the latest cruiser. John’s first car was a two door sporty Javelin with stripes on the outside and stripes inside on the upholstery and ceiling.
Supposedly Mother needed the car, conveniently, not long before he was old enough to drive. Thus, when John turned sixteen, he was given his Mother’s trick wheels, what a convenient arrangement, obviously with no complaints.
For a time John had the nicest car in town, but one famous night in Trinidad, Colorado, while the Alamosa Maroons basketball team was setting the state scoring record, someone crashed into him and totaled his beautiful car. No one was issued a ticket even though John might have had a beer or two.
A few days later the conversation was about the record and about the car. Sorry to say, while observing the mangled wreck, if you did not know what type of car it was, there was no guessing. It was beyond recognition, regrettably a depressing sight. It was a miracle nothing happened to him or the other driver in the crash.
Next chapter, not long afterwards his Dad, ‘daddy war bucks,’ blessed him with a lovely bronze Gran Torino, which included stripes. No one seriously knows if they had a Father-Son conversation regarding the first wrecked car, but the new car was a great upgrade.
Nevertheless this car was an immense improvement over the first car. Obviously still a two door, though a great deal stronger and crash resistant. And, if you consider setting in the rear seat, the doors were longer, thus climbing in was easier. The music system was higher grade, the overall look and the feel for two high school youngsters was far better.
During this period a ‘67’ Malibu was of interest. It was not believable, just to have wheels was a true joy, the idea of a first car… After custom painting the Malibu, a lighter green color with even lighter spider web panels on the hood and deck panel, the car had a nice appearance and was a pleasure to drive.
Although there was style, the transmission was a two speed automatic and amusingly the car had a good feel and required the normal five quarts of oil, but would run on only three quarts. Put five quarts in and two would burn up? While working at the station/radiator shop an attempt to fix the problem simply filed the radiator shop with black smoke. Somewhat perplexing, but what was, was…
Not long after, the Malibu was traded for a dream car, a ‘67’ Chevrolet Chevelle. The same auto painters suggested an upgrade. This monster had a seriously custom 427 cubic cm. engine, which replaced the 396 cubic cm. inch stock engine. Also a part of this little rocket was an Edilbrock 850 high-rise carburetor, a Hurst shifter, 411 gears in the rear end, 15-50 Mickey Thompson tires on the rear, baby moon rims, etc.
The Chevelle also was custom-painted, fortunately the car had a black vinyl top which was helpful during the pre-paint sanding. The Chevelle was painted gorgeous silver-flake and had a low profile hood scoop. Gold, into red, into blue flames immerged from the front of the car up and over the scoop and down the sides. Not only was it a beauty it outran every other car except a spiffy newer Corvette. The Chevelle could only do approximately 130 miles per hour in the quarter mile.
And given the size of the rear tires, which were consequently outside the wheel wells, an attempt to raise the rear portion of the car by adding steel spacers under the rear springs, almost caused a nasty crash. After placing the lifters below the rear springs to raise the back end and going for a test drive, the temptation to show off was irresistible.
Leaving the stoplight on Main Street and spinning the rear tires produced an uncontrollable car. The hot rod veered across opposing traffic lanes, fortunately no other cars were oncoming. Obviously the spacers were definitely not the solution, so much for the proposed fix?
As I mentioned, John was definitely blessed in many ways. After his freshman year in college he returned to Alamosa and we planned a road trip to Denver. We stayed at a college friend’s home in Wheat Ridge, west of Denver.
On Thursday night we went out to chase girls and have a beer. Irresponsibly, trouble happened, the next morning downtown City Jail was an unpleasant result. The wheels of law turned quickly and the derelict was sentenced to work for the City for one day. Getting out and doing the time was acceptable.
The hours passed and surprisingly John never bailed me out? During the day a trustee sweeping the floor outside the cell was called over. Adamantly the advice was not to spill the beans. Thirty to ninety days in jail is the punishment. But if not released today, the weekend will be spent in jail? Don’t do it! Don’t tell anyone, but during the court appearance, a less than true, name was given. Still the same, don’t admit it!
Sitting on the top bunk and remorsefully peering out watching the cars passing in downtown, get comfortable. Dinner arrived, as did sadness. Remarkably an Officer came to the cell and apologized for overlooking the release order. However, you must return Monday to serve your time. Absolutely, thank you so much.
What a relief! Is ‘difficulty,’ my middle name? There was no way to contact John’s unknown friend who lived out by Golden and with no transportation? The mind thinks rapidly during times of trouble. Hitch hiking west was a start. Finally a telephone number was found and they came to Colfax Avenue to the rescue.
Of course, we intended to drive back to Alamosa the following day, but do to circumstances, plans changed. Punishment was dusting records, surprisingly seeing the amount of records, wow! The sentence was served Monday in the Judicial Building. Early release was generously granted. Finally we were able to drive south to the Valley.
One evening we cruised up and down Main and a particular car was out of place. All the cars on Main Street were parallel parked on both sides, but one car, one car was almost three feet off the curb and sticking out into traffic. Most likely someone would not notice this poor park job and crash into the unsuspecting car. Many people were cruising up and down Main Street that night and finally a couple of lovely girls from Manassas, or somewhere, decided to share our ride.
With
