The flying car....

Back in the mid-70's when I was in high school, I had a best friend named Steve.

Steve was pretty wild and was always looking for some adrenaline pumping action. I on the other hand was very cautious and reserved. Somehow we successfully complimented each other.

I'd sometimes be able to convince him that something he was about to do was just too darn dangerous and at the last minute he'd not do that thing, and then he'd thank me later after realizing just how stupid that "thing" was he was going to do.


I benefited because Steve always encouraged me to step out of my safety zone and to try new things. He taught me how to fish for sharks, to water-ski, to ski down really tall sand dunes, and to drive cars and boats real fast.


I never had a difficult time getting dates while Steve and I were best friends. Steve was very tall and very handsome, the girls just feel at his feet. In fact, there were so many falling at his feet daily that I got to pick from the excess. A pretty girl would go out with an average looking guy like me just so she could be around Steve. I didn't care, I wasn't looking for "Mrs. Right" at the time anyway and the confidence building that it did for me was a real plus. It was also real cool when all the other average guys like me looked on in awe whenever they saw me with an extremely pretty girl on my arm.


One afternoon Steve called me and told me that he had arranged for the two of us to have dates that night. That we were taking three lovely girls bowling at the local Air Force Base, it was a nice alley and Steve and I were both military dependents at the time, so we had base I.D. cards.


A few hours later, I drove over to Steve's house, dropped off my car and off we went in his souped up 1973 Mustang Mach I. Steve's car was one of the coolest I'd ever been in or driven, I liked it just a little more than I did my 1969 Camaro. Anyway, Steve, with me in tow - drove around and picked up the three girls for our bowling date. Our few hours at the bowling alley were okay, but nothing special. I could detect that Steve was pretty bored and was anxious to do something crazy.


As he drove all of us across the base and headed toward town he suddenly took a quick turn and told me that he was going to take a shortcut. Immediately, I knew something fishy was up.


"Steve, doesn't this road lead to the flight line?"


"Yeah."


"So, why are we heading somewhere that's off limits?"


"So we can fly."


"Fly?" I asked nervously.


The girls in the back seat were very quiet.


"Don't you remember I told you about how the flight line is much higher in elevation than this road - and it's like going up a ramp as you reach the runway?"


"Well, sorta'."


"Well, I think if we go fast enough, I can launch Mustang in the air."


"Hmm, I don't know..."


"What about you girls, do you want to fly?"


I was taken by surprise, the girls all responded positively. I had expected (or hoped) that they would have talked Steve out of his crazy idea!


Steve suddenly pressed the accelerator to the floor. The Mustang's engine kicked in full and we were all thrown back in our seats. I could see the road raise slowly toward the runway. In a matter of seconds we were truly airborne. What seemed like minutes was probably a whole 2 or 3 seconds but no matter, we were gracefully in the air.


There was nothing about our landing that was graceful though.


Steve hadn't give much consideration to the extra weight of the three girls in the back seat. He had also forgotten about the 4 bowling balls in the trunk!


When we hit the ground, the air shocks in the back of Steve's car immediately blew out. When we came to a stop, the back of the Mustang was laying right on top of the back tires. Whenever Steve tried to drive the car forward it made a horrible noise and we could only imagine all of the rubber being scrapped off of the tires.


So there we were, five teenagers sitting in a busted car, on a military runway which was totally off limits. I was starting to get just a little worried. Steve just looked over and smiled at me like the "Chesser Cat".


"What?" I asked.


"I know what to do."


"Yeah, walk somewhere, borrow a telephone, and call base security."


"No way. I'm not having them call my dad - again!"


And you know. We did make it off the base that night without getting into any trouble. It was a miracle - but we did it.


Can you imagine the looks on the faces of the drivers of the few cars we encountered as we left the base that night and headed for Steve's house and my car. What they saw was Steve and I sitting on the front part of the hood of the Mustang and holding on for dear life. The three girls were sitting in the two front bucket seats with the blowling balls piled on the front passenger floor. By shifting all that weight toward the front of the car, we were able to lift the back of the car up just enough so as to not drag on the tires.


Fortunately for us, cellular telephones didn't exist back then and so nobody was able to call the police on us. Since Steve only lived a few miles from the base, we were able to get to his house quickly before being detected by law enforcement.


I have no idea what Steve told his dad about the car and the damage inflicted on it. I left him to deal with that issue so that I could take the girls home. Everyone seemed to have had a good time that night - except me. I had been afraid that we'd never see those girls again.

My fears were without merit.