"I’m not sure. I was afraid to open my eyes and look. I was seventeen years old and my friend M. was driving us across a rickety bridge in her boyfriend’s Trans Am. Let’s just say I was constipated for about a week because my butt was puckered so tightly."
You met M. back in September when I wrote about our elementary school reunion. She's the one on the right. Her mother always seemed to know what we were up to when we were kids. It was hard to pull anything over on her. Apparently, it still is. You see, I didn't realize that she reads this blog regularly, and the night I published the interview post she called M. up and asked if it was HER that was with me in that car and if we were going over the ---- Bridge. It was. And we were. And just like that, I had ratted out my buddy. Even though I hadn't print her name, and I left out the names of the boyfriend and the bridge. It didn't matter. After all these years, her mama still has that super sonic mischief detecting radar that we tried to fly under during our teenaged years. It hasn't weakened one bit.
I hear they had a good laugh about the whole thing, and how you really don't want to know all the things your kids did behind your back when they were young. What a relief!
And it's fun to know M.'s mom is stopping by here on a regular basis. Howdy, M.'s mom! I'll try not to reveal any more old memories that might give you a heart attack. Besides, we didn't pull much over on you all those years ago. Well, there WAS that trip to the college town about an hour away from home on a Friday night......