BUSHWACKING OR BEING BUSHWACKED

Some Friday high school nights when we weren't parking with our girls, we'd go try to find those that were. Honking, light shining, once shaking a car from side to side--he deserved it; he told us where he and his girl parked. The best was when an older guy blocked a car on a country road by cutting down two trees that hemmed them in.

Invariably a car would get stuck. Either from pulling too far over or driving down a private lane trying to escape the bushwackers. The walk to the farmer's house asking for help was common in the days before cell phones and AAA. They were most always helpful with chains and tractors. Most, perhaps remembering their youth, wouldn't take any money for the bother.

Once in awhile a battery would go dead because the radio was left on to set the mood. The Righteous Brothers, The Association, Little Anthony and the Imperials were the cause of lots of lasting relationships back then. Even a good DJ could chip in and stoke the fires of passion.

Of course driveways and streets at the end of the night would add the final touch. Until a beacon of light from a passing car or a porch light pierced the night and brought a sudden stop. But that was ok.

Because remember--this was only Friday night. There was still one more weekend night left.