The one about when “There was no Joy, in Joyriding”
So as teens when you are raised in an affluent part of Westchester County in New York State you run out of things to do. Mini bikes did it, go carts did it, joy riding in a stolen parents car with only a learners permit, hmmm.
My pal Glenn had just gotten his learners permit and was glad when his parent’s went away for a week. Jon and Glenn, Beth L and I all jumped into Glenn’s fathers pristine gold tone Volvo and off we went. There we were driving around like adults with no license and a fast turbo charged 4 cylinder leather interior barca-lounger to joy ride in.
We drove down Quaker ridge road then down weaver street. We buzzed by the YWHA just in case anyone we knew saw us. WE turned around in the Golden Horshoe parking lot, and then headed back down weaver when we ran into a police car coming in the opposite direction.
Shit!. We were spooked of course and Jon suggested we take the back roads back to their house near Quaker ridge road. It was a sunny day 70’s sprinklers were going in this neighbor hood on the cusp of Scarsdale and New Rochelle. Music was playing, we were laughing and then the Golden Volvo skidded just a little and we grazed the oncoming station wagon making a rather noticeable dent on the driver left side. No body was hurt but Glenn was having kittens and Jon was trying to comfort his brother. It was then that we all got out to see the damage and make sure the other car was ok.
To our shock and surprise 4 teenagers ( from Scarsdale perhaps) were doing the same surveying of damage. I yelled out are you guys ok, they said yes but that they were fucked, and thats when jumped back into the Volvo and headed to Jon and Glenn’s house. What were the chances that 8 kids went joy riding in 2 stolen cars and crashed into one another. They had to be astronomical, but we did it.
We got back to Jon and Glenn’s house talked about it and headed our seperate ways. I got a call from Jon later and he walked me thru the parent story about how his dads car got stolen and was being driven to the bronx by another friend and that I should stick to that story if his dad followed up with me. This plan while well thought out and executed did have one flaw, my father standing behind me very intently listening. Suffice it to say there was no joy from that joy riding and it took over a year to get ungrounded and be allowed to hang with Jon and Glenn again.
To Glenn’s credit I think he spent the next 6 years working part time and paying for his Dad’s Golden Volvo. He was allowed to breathe air as long as he bought the car he stole.