Chapter 1 – The Signature
Our Journey Begins
I’ve tried to write most of this book in chronological
order from childhood to the present. The stories are based on
true events, although many of the names have been changed
to respect the privacy of others. Some of the stories overlap
in time, but this story in particular is required to go first to
start this voyage on its proper course. This seems to be the
tale that defines my life with my friends even today, so here
it is, my signature.
—-
Warning – All of the stunts and pranks enacted in this
book took place over 30 years ago. Don’t attempt them today
under any conditions. These stunts and pranks took place in
a different day and a different time, and they were still incredibly
stupid, that having been said. Some are extremely dangerous,
and you or someone else could be severely injured or
killed. They may possibly get you into legal trouble as well.
DO NOT ATTEMPT ANYTHING YOU READ HERE.
Remember, what you don’t do to yourself is priceless.
—-Chapter 1
The Signature
Age 17 – Our Journey Begins
I can probably sum up my early life by just saying
“Friendswood.” That’s the name of the town I grew up in.
The story below occurred sometime in late high school. My
mom and dad were separated, so while mom went home to
Virginia, dad was just out. I was around 17 years old with the
house all to myself. Without any guidance or supervision,
this story is the kind of thing that happens when kids get
bored.
The Proving Runs
It was during a time when local cops were local, and we
hadn’t quite figured out what had just happened in the ‘60s.
After a childhood of being led to believe that Vietnam vets
were baby killers and watching man taking his first steps on
the moon, the disco drums were starting to beat. Drugs were
abundant in most of the schools, and my school showed signs
of drugs as well. It was the mid 1970s.
The friend that I was hanging with at the time, Roger, he
had a habit of his own. No, he wasn’t into drugs, he was into
bowling balls. He’d go into a bowling alley with an empty
bag, bowl a few games and leave with one of their balls.
I heard a shrink state once that when you ask your kid,
“What were you thinking?” to remember that they probably
weren‘t thinking. During childhood, brain growth is so rapid
that sometimes the two halves don‘t talk to each other. So
with that excuse in mind, we’ll move on.
One day Roger and I were in his room, bored to death.
We were looking at about six bowling balls when we had us
a vision. We were going to roll a bowling ball from one end
of our town to the other, a distance of about two miles. Now,
my dad worked at NASA, so I knew some tests had to be conducted
before the first official launch.
Our first run consisted of a 30 mph drop out the right side window of a car. Much to
our amazement, the ball kept a fairly straight track and came
to rest in the gutter of the street. We figured we had such
good luck at 30 mph, let’s try 60 mph.
At 60 mph we learned what became the golden rule of
bowling from your car. Never, ever, under any condition, put
the launch vehicle in front of the bowling ball. Seeing how
this bowling ball stuff was new to us and all, we found it necessary
to come up with some guidelines for safety. After
about 10 trial runs, that was the only rule that stood up to the
test of time.
At 60 mph, the drop was made. I heard the ball skittering
alongside of the car. But the ball wasn’t slowing down as
quickly as I would like, so I floored the car and hoped for the
best. After an undetermined amount of time, I saw the ball in
the rear view mirror tracking dead-on behind us. Unfortunately,
I was concerned about the speed of our launch vehicle
and the rapidly approaching end of the street. This street
ended in a 90 degree cross street that lay about 2 feet higher
than our launch track. A significant upslope was right at the
end. I had enough distance at this point to slow the car and
slide through the corner, while scraping the exhaust on the
ground. I watched the ball in my rear view mirror as it sailed
through the air about 5 feet over the crossing street. An
explosion of wood ensued, but I kept on driving like a deer
running from a hunter.
Being the stupid kids that we were, of course, we had to
return to the scene of the crime. Everyone always does
sooner or later. When we returned, we found the back side of
a fence at a house had a hole knocked through it big enough
for a full-grown man to walk through. As we drove past, two
dogs made their escape through this hole into their own newfound
freedom. Yes, the POW s were escaping.
A big drawback to being guilty, however, is the paranoia
that goes along with it. We were concerned the ball might
have fingerprints and had to take this nonsense a step further.
That night we snuck into the crash area and reclaimed our trophy,
the ball.
At this point we figured we’d obtained enough data and
experience to accomplish the mission, to roll the ball from
one side of town to the other down the main highway. This
street the perfect launch track, because it was a four-lane
highway divided by a grass median. It’s not like we were stupid
kids or anything like that, we knew we couldn’t do this
with a lot of traffic on the road, so we waited until about 2
am, a night launch
This is the story that has followed me through my entire
life, people wanting to hear it again or for me to tell it to one
of their friends. The conclusion of this story is appropriately
located near the end of this book. The fortunate and lucky
ending to what could have been a catastrophic and deadly
prank, symbolically, is the signature of my life.
