4th of July, when I was 16.

It was a typical day for that time in my life; I was hanging around with my friend, Josh, when we decided that we were going to "fry" that evening. That's what we called taking LSD. We went to an acquaintance, Brandon's house, for lack of somewhere better to go. At the time, I was affiliated with a group of anti-racist skinheads called S.H.A.R.P. (Skin heads Against Racial Prejudism). I know, you're wondering "Aren't all skinheads racist?". Without going too far into the history, I'll tell you that skinheads actually started as a rebellious faction of Punk Rock; rebelling against the craziness, drugs, and debauchery. "What?!", you may ask. "How do you rebel against Punk?". The first skinheads represented the middle class working youth. They were "Straight Edge" (anti-drug, and sometimes alcohol). They dressed very simply, in work clothes, and shaved their heads, keeping very neat, somewhat resembling the military way of dressing. They didn't represent anti-racism, per se, but were about being stalwart, and that didn't have room for any separatist ways of thinking. Eventually, racists took the style, probably because of it's simplicity.
My aforementioned acquaintance was also an anti-racist skinhead in S.H.A.R.P., Phoenix United Skin Head chapter (P.U.S.H.). I didn't respect him, but he was large, and handy to have around in a fight.
My friend and I were at Brandon's when we decided it was time to take the LSD. It was early evening. We drew cartoons on each other's arms, to "trip on" later. I should mention that Brandon's Dad was a Cop, and his older brother was an Asshole who was jealous of me (He once put a gun in my neck, and bluffed that he was going to kill me right then, because he was jealous that one of my girlfriends didn't like him, and I didn't treat her well enough).
Josh and I took the Acid, and, in about 40 minutes, started to feel it. As the cartoons on our arms were dancing around, and metamorphosing, Brandon's Dad came home. He was a scary dude, so we went out into the back yard. When Brandon's Dad came outside, I tried to communicate that we should go somewhere else, but it came out (and I remember distinctly) as; "Gwe getingoinnow".
I'm sure, by the way he looked at me, that he knew we were on drugs, and it felt like we ran away, but I'm sure we kept our cool, the best we could. We walked to the local mall, and tried to devise a plan, which is a laughable thing to do on LSD, especially 4X the dose, as we were on (It was called 4way, for that reason). I remember walking to the movie theater side of the mall, and staring at a movie poster. The theater was under ground, and in front of the stairs was a free-standing poster display, like the mall directories, that was cylindrical, and held 3 posters, which were back lit. The one I was staring at was of a man that looked like he was trapped inside the poster, in a fog, and was pressing against the glass, trying to get out. This was VERY interesting to look at, and was freaking me out, until I felt Brandon kick me in the head. He was like that. I think he was jealous of people who enjoyed drugs, but was afraid to take them. He's a tweaker, now, by the way. I guess he felt responsible for us, or was just bored, and wanted to get us somewhere. I called several people, including my friend, Laura, who liked, and wanted to get together with me. She came to pick me up, and I think I may have failed to mention that I had my tripping friend and an Asshole with me.
We were only at her house for a few minutes before she realised that the situation wasn't what she hoped for. I told her that we had nowhere to go, as Josh had been kicked out that day, and I wasn't going back to my Dad's house. She mentioned that her neighbor was on vacation, and I sobered up enough to talk her into showing me where the place was. She left us there, saying she knew nothing of where we were, or what we were going to do, and that we never saw her.
Laura lived in Paradise Valley, which was like the "Brentwood" of the Phoenix area, and was the setting for the movie "Pump Up the Volume" with Christian Slater. The homes are opulent, and most had alarms. This was no exception. Fortunately, I was an active Cat Burglar at the time, and knew how to bypass the magnetic alarm. We went inside, and were very trepid at first. Brandon got sick of our drug induced idiocy, and announced that he wanted to go home, indicating that we got him into the situation, and owed him a way home. I had just enough money for bus fare, but not for him, and I don't think Josh had any money. I decided to borrow the house car.
Looking into the garage, I almost fell down with joy. There was a convertible Mercedes sportster; a 450SL. I excitedly looked for keys. They weren't in the car, or around anywhere obvious. I looked in the usual places, and became dejected. I started to go back into the garage, when I saw a key rack on the wall... with the keys! There was a discussion started about who was going to drive, which I quickly quashed, since I was obviously the most qualified to do the chore.
Brandon and I got in (there wasn't room for Josh in the 2 seater), and took a breath. There was a good chance that the neighbors would see 2 punk kids driving out of the garage, while the legal occupants were away. I decided to start the car, open the garage, and just take the chance. If we were seen, we would just abandon the whole scene. I started the car, and hit the garage door button. As soon as there was clearance, I backed out, with my eyes wide open, heart pounding, and every physical function on hold, while I scanned for any sign of people. The coast was clear as I pushed the button again, and calmly drove away. I probably have never driven as perfectly by the law as I did then, until I got Brandon home. The sun was setting, and I just wanted to get the car back uneventfully...
As I pulled away from his house, people were already setting off fireworks in the street. It was awesome, and very distracting. The clouds of smoke seemed endless, and the pops were impossibly bright. I made my way out of the neighborhood as the streetlights came on, indicating that it was time to turn on the headlights. I twisted the knob, and water squirted onto the windshield. Odd. I tried again, with the same result. It was hard enough trying to drive right, without having to look for the headlight switch. I pulled, and pushed things, with every result, except having the headlights come on. I looked more frantically, to no avail. I didn't want to stop, and risk getting caught. I should mention at this point that although I was affiliated with the Skinheads, I didn't share their simple fashion sense. I was hardcore Punk. I had a Mohawk that rubbed the roof of the car, with a checkerboard pattern shaved into one side, and had nails sticking out of my clothes. I couldn't find the Damned headlight switch, so I pulled the stick that flashed the high beams. It worked, so I just held that stupid thing for the rest of the drive. Good. I had headlights. Now it was time for some music. I found my Punk station, and turned it up.
A sigh of relief released itself as I pulled into the desert road that would take me about 20 minutes back to Paradise Valley.
As I cruised along, I noticed a red Maserati next to me. There was a woman driving, and it made me laugh, because it reminded me of the classic scene in the movie "Vacation". We played a little bit, each speeding up, and getting a little ahead, until the other caught up. The road ahead reduced to 1 lane, each way, and i courteously let her get ahead. I was still beaming about this, when I noticed bright lights ahead. As i approached, reality came back to me; I am a 16 year old Punker in a stolen Mercedes on the 4th of July, in the middle of nowhere, on a 2 lane highway, with no crossroads to turn off onto, and ahead is... FUCK! It's a DUI checkpoint! Shit! Fuck! WHAT DO I DO?! If I turn around, they will surely come after me, and probably already have cops at the other end of the road, waiting for someone to try that. If I go through, looking like I do, holding the "brights" on, they'll pull me over, and throw me in jail. FUCK!!!!
I drove cool, because I had no choice. Blood was rushing through my ears so loudly that I forgot to turn down the radio. The woman had entered the checkpoint, which was a series of cones, lit very brightly by floodlights on generators. nearby was the "Paddy Wagon", and several extra Police cars, and officers. Fuuuuuuck. She was slowly making her way through, when a Cop tapped on my window, and did the circular "Roll it down" motion with his hand. I went to roll it down and.. FFUUCKK! there's NO God Damned handle! There is no switch on the door! What the F. TAP, TAAP! Now the Cop is looking annoyed. Not good. I darting my eyes around the entire car, until I finally see that the window switches are in between the seats. Why the FU..?
I roll it down, and the Officer does the hand-twist "Turn down the fucking radio!" motion. I turn it down, and he starts to say something. Unfortunately, he sounds like he's speaking through glue, and the words are dripping out of his mouth. I can't make a single word, but can read his face pretty well. I'm stammering, and probably sounding like glue, myself. He loses his patience pretty quickly, and motions me to move into the "You're completely fucked, and we're going to laugh as we throw you into the van" area. It was complete "Fight of Flight", nothing else matters, slow motion, do or die time. If I pull over, I'm going to jail, says me. If you run, you have a chance, says I. Time almost stopped, and I inched forward as the woman in the Maserati slowly pulled out of the checkpoint. Do. Or Die.
As soon as there was an inch of room to spare, I hit the gas! Swerving through the cones, I was completely focused; more than I had ever been before (and I had been in some serious situations). Of course, it wasn't long before the interior lit up RED, BLUE, RED, BLUE, and the siren started. I pushed the car for all she had, rattling the valves, and causing a burning oil smell. I let go of the "Brights" switch, and had enough light from the moon, when the road was straight. I didn't look back, or at the speedometer, just at the road ahead. I'm sure I was going about 150. when I saw the reflective signs indicating a turn, I'd pull the Brights back on. I became aware that the steering wheel felt like it was 5 feet in diameter, and the gas pedal felt like it was 2 inches tall, and 5 feet away. It felt like I was putting distance between me and the Cop, but I couldn't take my eyes off of the road for a millisecond. After a few minutes, I decided that if he were still behind me, I wouldn't be able to shake him, so I had a better chance on foot, because they'd probably call in a helicopter.
By this time, there were side streets, and a few streetlamps. However, in this neighborhood, there were no sidewalks, and the houses were far apart. The landscaping was native desert. Although it made it more dangerous, were I to lose control, this all worked to my advantage. I went through the windy streets, squealing the tires around corners, knowing that the Mercedes would easily out handle the Cruiser. I went for a while, and thought it was a good time to make my next move. Do, or die. I let go of the headlight handle, shut off the car, so there would be no brake lights, and slammed on the brakes, purposely skidding into a bush. When the car stopped, I opened the door and rolled out under the bush, and held my breath. All I could hear was my blood, and ringing. There were no flashing lights. No lights of any kind, but the light glow of a far away streetlamp. Could it be? I breathed shallowly, and listened with everything I had, and I could hear a siren that sounded like it was a half-mile away. I ran a little bit deeper into the desert, and hid in another bush, in case they found the car. Eventually, the siren sound faded, and was gone. There was no helicopter. I waited, and pondered all the possibilities; Was it a trap? Were they waiting somewhere down the road?
eventually, after what seemed like an hour, I walked gingerly back to the car, wondering if I should walk back to where josh was.... Wait.. Where IS Josh?! Where was I?! I had to drive, since I was far from anywhere that I could hitch a ride, or call someone. I got back into the car, and took the time to find the light switch. It was on the dash, to the left of, and behind the huge steering wheel, where I couldn't see it until I practically put my head behind the wheel.
Now what?
I was back in the now REALLY hot car, probably with the Cops looking for it, not knowing where I was, or where to go. I didn't know where Laura lived, since I wasn't paying attention the times I was driven there. I had to make an effort. Since I had no idea where to go, I just went, hoping that instinct would guide me, and that I would somehow evade arrest. As I remember it, I just kept turning where I thought I should, and eventually recognised the street, and pulled right back into the garage of where the car belonged.