I lift my glass to those ‘good ole days’ when there wasn’t much to do but drive the gravel backroads, smoke cigarettes, and drink just about anything we could get our hands on. How we managed to survive it all is still a mystery to me.
When I was a kid hanging around the only grocery store in town, drinking Yoo-hoo and stuffing my cheeks with Bazooka Joe gum a surprising change started taking place. All of a sudden, it seemed like everywhere I looked there were girls. I mean, sure they were there before but they were just annoying little brats whose sole purpose in life was to cause trouble. I wasn’t sure what happened and honestly I didn’t care. All I knew was those little brats had been transformed into females. I can tell you that the only good thing about a hot ass, dust filled summer in the arm pit of the universe called Wakenda, Missouri was…the hotter the sun, the fewer clothes those females wore. A pair of short blue jean cutoffs and a halter top could start the blood pumping and I’m going to say, that to a 13 year old’s imagination, there were times when maybe that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mean to say that all we could think about all day and night was sex. I mean, sometimes we had to eat. But it did seem that we had an awful lot of different names for something none of us knew a hell of a lot about. Boff, boink, bump, diddle, dip your wick, doing it, doing the nasty, getting down and dirty, getting laid, got lucky, going all the way, rounding the bases, home run, touchdown, hide the sausage and squeaky-squeaky. Man, we became experts on the subject. But I suppose that’s what happens when you’re stuck in a town with the population about the size of a football team.