Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Thursday, February 18, 2021

Way Past Speeding

I'm quite sure this flashed past.
And I do mean flashed.
We teenagers in Milk River lived an hour from the bright lights of Lethbridge.
Let me start again. 
Everybody in Milk River lived an hour from Lethbridge.
The teenagers . . . a little less.
Maybe I should explain . . .
It was Friday night.
The only theatre in Milk River was showing something that none of my group was interested in seeing.
It happened occasionally. 
Now that we were old enough to legally drive, we were becoming less and less enamoured with what our small town offered and more and more interested in what we could find in the big city.
Twice as many choices for movie-watching, for example.
The only problem on this particular evening was our timing.
We had decided, en masse, that the movie we were all assembled to see was far less interesting than one of the choices currently running in Lethbridge.
And we had decided this while we were standing on the sidewalk, waiting to get in.
Half an hour before either movie was set to start.
Could we make it?
Our driver of the evening gave a nonchalant shrug of the shoulder and a flippant toss of the head. “Of course!”
That was all we needed.
We, ten of us, piled – and I do mean piled – into his car. Four in front. Six in back.
Seatbelts hadn’t been invented yet.
And we were off.
We cleared the town limits, then our driver ‘buried the needle’.
And that’s when the reality of the situation hit me.
What we were doing went beyond speeding.
I’m quite sure we were flying.
At one point, I think I glimpsed Saturn.
I should probably point out, here, that I don’t like traveling at high speeds. In fact, horse and cart is my usual form of transportation. And let’s face it, Old Bessy really wouldn’t make much of a showing on the Indianapolis circuit.
Back to my story . . .
I was so terrified that I spent the entire trip flat on my stomach on the back floor under everyone’s feet. It was the safest place I could think of.
Once I poked my head above the seat and stared in awe at the needle. 
Which was flat against the little pike at the bottom of the speedometer.
How do you say ‘yikes’?
Oh, right. 
Yikes.
We made it safely.
In twenty-four minutes.
The only casualty was my equilibrium.
I don’t even remember what the movie was.
Can anyone say ‘irony’? We took our lives in our hands for a movie that none of us can even remember. The very essence of being a teenager.
But if any of my grandkids try this . . .

6 comments:

  1. My youngest brother spent every trip on the floor of the back seat with his brothers feet resting on him. I don't think that speed was the reason - I will have to ask.
    And yes, it is amazing that so many of us do survive teenagedom (is that a word?).

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. If it's not a word, it needs to be! ;)
      Yep. Your younger brother and I sound similar...

      Delete
  2. The fun part of motherhood is when your now-grown children share - ahem - some of the things they did when they were teenagers. Sometimes, you smile inwardly....

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And inward smile would be wonderful, even as I give the outward glare!
      My Eldest son told me, a year after it happened, about the day he was mugged at knifepoint. Gasp! Sometimes, it's probably best not to know at all!

      Delete
  3. Grandpa has a lead foot, and i learned to be very afraid of high speeds. Unless i am having to follow him somewhere, i keep a much slower pace, and even did so when younger.

    ReplyDelete

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