When I was 14 a friend invited me over for a camp out in the back yard, next day we're all goin to Six Flags. Hoorah.

I did not know, but I did appreciate that he invited four girls, none of whom I knew, to come "visit" with us.

We paired off. My sweetie was a tall redhead with nibbly lips. She kissed me with her tongue. Oh yeah, she was groovin on Dave.

The little brunette with the sailor's cap said "let's go skinny dipping"!

The four morons said "uh heh heh ok"!

And off we marched, at 2 in the morning to the closest apartment complex. And found their pool.

We didn't really get nekkid. But we all did get down to our skivvies.

I think, not counting my sisters, it was the first time I had seen a girl not my sister in a bra and panties.

It was a magical evening.

We splashed, we laughed, a drunk or high couple on the patio cheered us on.

Life was good.

It was also shiny.

Lite Bright shiny.

Police car lights.

When the Carrollton Police showed up. Good God you would have thought a bank was getting knocked over... there were seven squad cars.

They took our shivering wet bodies to the station, and one by one we started calling home.

"Dad. Hi. It's your son. David. Yes sir. Well, uh, we kinda... I'm at the police station and they want you to come get me".

He didn't say much. But he did come get me. Cop explained "goofy teenagers, out where they shouldn't be, when they shouldn't be out".

That might have been the longest drive home in my life. 3 miles.

The next morning (Saturday), oh, and YEAH, Six Flags was torpedoed, I went to work with my dad. And his pal Charlie.

I got to make the coffee.

They had a secretary named Cindy... she was probably 19, and she was definitely drop dead gorgeous. Auburn hair. Blue eyes. A smile that would make a 14 year old boy say "gnngh noggin hogginblah hi".

Dad didn't miss a beat. He said "hey Cindy, meet my son. The 'midnight Mark Spitz'".

Home run pop. 435, right field.

Good times, good times.

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