Wednesday, September 17, 2003

You Say Tomato, I Say 12 Gauge Shotgun

Chucking stuff at cars. A time-honored tradition where I come from. The Elder and I (along with a neighbor) raised quite a bit of hell by throwing "Dirt bombs" (which were actually hard clay packed into golf ball-sized trajectiles) at vehicles for years.

Usually we made them a day or two ahead and stored them in caches along a trail through the woods so there was always a proper supply. We’d head out at around dusk, often donning dark clothing to avoid detection. We would walk the trail which lead to an overlook on a fairly busy thoroughfare. This way we could thrown down on the unsuspecting cars and high tail it before they had a chance to figure out what happened.

We aimed for hubcaps which, when hit made a distinctive ping that seemingly could be heard for blocks. Most people stopped for a second, then moved along thinking they were hearing things. If they actually saw the dirt bombs hit their car they would often stop and yell, but that was about it.

But, once in a while we would hit the wrong car. We hit a 1975 Vega one night and in a heartbeat the car was stopped and teenagers were running up the hill to “kick our asses”. Like wily VC we knew the trails better and managed to get away, but they put a good scare into us.

Buses were the ultimate target. Three kids could hit an MTC bus at least 6 times as it lumbered by. They must have been the ones who called the cops one night. As I stood next to our neighbor in the woods I said “Hey look, there’s the Elder over there. Why does he have a flashlight?” I then looked to my other side where the Elder himself was standing. We ran like hell, the Elder hiding under a duck boat and myself and our neighbor hightailing it to our garage. As we looked onto the street, we spotted 3 police cars canvassing the neighborhood. What a blast.

So, I was completely shocked to see this story in the news today.

Can't people do anything anymore?

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