A few weeks ago, two young chaps had a laugh at the expense of some teenagers. The night started out like many others. The birds stopped chirping and returned to their nests or favorite places to perch, the sun set in the north, the fragmented moon began to shine, and the stars stayed hidden due to all the light pollution coming from the porches, street lamps, and cars of Beaverton. But…this was not to be an ordinary night.
It was late on Saturday, maybe 1:00AM, and our two heroes were on their way home to get some sleep before a full day of surfing at the coast. The driver of their vehicle had actually just completed a day of surfing, and had come to pick up his friend in order for him to spend the night so that they could take off early in the morning. Four surfboards were still strapped to the roof of their car.
As they continued driving home, they passed a small gang of miscreant highschoolers hanging out on a surburbia street corner. It was quite obvious to our two protagonists that they were up to no good, or were hoping to be up to no good but hadn’t quite stumbled upon the right ingredients yet. All of that was about to change, as our two surfing characters (we’ll call the driver Kent and the passenger Quincy), had a brilliant plan. Quincy suggested they turn around and make another pass, as it was obvious that the teenagers needed some entertainment. So Kent waited until they were out of sight and he turned the car around. They drove back by the street corner, where the five kids stood and sat on the lawn near the curb, watching the red car with the four surfboards go back the opposite direction, thinking that they must be lost. But of course that was not the case, for the car turned around again, this time in plain sight of the teenagers, and passed them once more. This time, their heads all visibly turned as they wondered what must be going on.
Back in the car, Kent and Quincy couldn’t contain their laughter as tears strolled down their cheeks and they gasped for air. More drive-bys were needed, that was obvious. So they turned around again out of sight, and a minute later they passed the teenagers for a fourth time. This time, two were standing up a few paces back from where they had been sitting near the sidewalk. It was not Quincy and Kent’s goal to scare the poor adolescents, but if that was the case, so be it. Because the laughter that they were continuing to experience was well worth it.
Kent noticed the gas light was on, and suspected that it had been on for some time. They briefly discussed finding a gas station, but thought against it as they turned around for another pass. This time they approached slowly, then gunned the engine and loudly accelerated past the hooligans. Kent flipped the car around again when they were out of sight, and this time passed the kids going slowly, with loud music. They had now all retreated from the lawn where they were sitting, except for one. The rest were standing back from the corner, backing up to one of their houses.
Kent and Quincy turned around again, and this time Quincy planned on showing them a pressed ham, but realized he’d have to wait until they were driving the opposite direction so the passenger side was facing the prey. As they turned around after passing once again, Quincy had an even better idea. He got in the back seat, where the windows were heavily tinted, and Kent reclined his driver’s seat all the way and leaned back so that he wasn’t visible at all from the side. He could just barely see through the steering wheel to the road. Kent rolled down the window and he and Quincy slowly passed, going no more than 10 miles an hour, slightly swerving due to not being able to see. When they had passed the kids, they burst into a type of laughter that makes one breathless and weak. They pulled off the road for a minute to get control of themselves. Snot was steaming down their noses as tears blurred their vision. After much laughter, subsiding of laughter, then laughter starting up again, Quincy and Kent finally calmed down. Gas was needed, so they spent about five minutes driving to look for a gas station. They gave up pretty quickly deciding that there probably was plenty of gas left, but mainly just not wanting their prey to escape while they were gone.
Who knows what the teenagers were thinking at this point. It had been five or ten minutes since the driver-less car had passed them. Had it been possessed by surfer ghosts? Had it simply been a prank by a team of robotics engineers floating above in a blimp who were controlling the car by remote? Well, it was all over now. They could settle back into their routine of sitting on the curb at 1:30AM waiting for a case of beer to appear out of thin air in front of them.
But no, such was not the case. For Quincy and Kent drove by again!! The teenager’s hearts skipped a beat, then rappidly skyrocketed. The brave one stood up as his friends scampered back even farther away from the curb to a nearby bush. He posted up with his hands covering his crotch like a soccer player creating a wall. His chin lifted up as if to say, “What UP! You messin with ME and MY possee?!?!”
After two more passes, he had retreated back to one of their houses along with his friends, which was, for Kent and Quincy’s benefit, located on the same street. They were scared, but still too curious to go inside.
Coming in to their final pass, Quincy had a brilliant plan. Although always tasty, pressed ham still was not on the menu. Something even better. Much much better. The equivalent to a $50 piece of lobster sushi, or a really giant burrito.
As the two trouble-causers came upon the house where the kids had relocated, they rolled down the window and slowed down to a stop. Four of the teenagers were hiding behind a truck in the driveway, one began fleeing as he saw the ghost surfer’s window roll down. At this point, one came out of the house with some adults. Quincy, wasting no time and not stumbling upon his planned speech whatsoever, said:
“Excuse me, do you know where Southwest Linden Street is?” The adult, who was now walking to his car with the other adult and aparently ignoring whatever his kid had told him about the ghost car, said:
“Hmmm. Southwest Linden Boulevard. No, I don’t know where that is. You know a cross street?”
“Well…no,” Quincy replied. “But they told us it was near the 217…”
“Well that’s about three miles that direction,” the adult pointed.
“Oh. Well Ok. Thanks then.”
Flawless. Kent and Quincy drove down the street a little ways, pulled a U turn and passed the teenagers a final time, who were no longer hiding behind the parked truck. As they passed, they waved to the teenagers, forever confusing them and giving them something to wonder about for the rest of their lives.
KENNETT PETERSON 