Note: Because the “My American Dream” category is a continuing story from post to post, I suggest you start with the very first article in this series entitled “Jersey Born Kid”, then read on from there. This will allow you to fully understand any references made in regards to previous writings….. Enjoy!
This time around, it’s a few minutes before 1am in the morning as I’m tip-toeing down the steps inside our family home on Brook St. As referenced before, my father was not one to be played with when he was angry, so I tried to be as quiet as possible while sneaking out of the house. I’m 15 years old at this point and my parents have already had more than enough of my juvenile shenanigans (plenty on that as the writings continue). See the plan was to meet my best friend Larry a half block away behind “Fairfield Furniture” on the corner of Brook St & Oak Rd at 1am….. We had BIG plans for the night.
See, we were invited by a couple of cute sixteen-year-old girls to hang out and drink while one of their parents were out of town. Before I continue, let’s put this situation in its proper perspective: We are barely 15 years old, our hormones could rival a Fourth-of-July fireworks spectacular and this opportunity to get close to “older women” without adult supervision had presented itself. So without even thinking about the logistics, we accepted their invite immediately. Our biggest dilemma now was that our pretty female friends lived up in Montclair. This is about a 25-minute drive straight up Bloomfield Ave from where we lived. This presented us with two major obstacles: First, the minimum driving age in New Jersey at the time was age 17. I had never even driven a car before let alone had a legal permit. Secondly, we had no wheels. We had to come up with a plan… somehow… someway… we had to get there. The phrase “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” was never more relevant than it was at this point in our lives.
Besides, in our eyes, we couldn’t let “our girls” down, they were counting on us!
So, in preparation, a few days earlier Larry & I had pulled the same stunt and met up in the middle of the night. On that night, we brought with us a flat-head screwdriver. We had this idea that we could start a random vehicle by shoving the screwdriver in the ignition and turning it over. I know this sounds completely ridiculous but we were young teenagers at the time and on a mission. Within our neighborhood there is a huge industrial park named “Pio Costa” that runs right along the Passaic River. Within this complex, there are rows and rows of multi tenant commercial buildings housing numerous types of small businesses. This area is totally desolate at night so we decided to try our luck here.
There were 
plenty of cars and trucks parked there over night. If we saw a vehicle, we would simply pull on the handles to see if one the doors would be unlocked and open. Back then many cars had those little corner vent windows. If it was unlatched, you could sometimes use a wire hanger or reach by hand the pull up lock and open the door. Of course, every time we did manage to enter a vehicle, the screwdriver would not turn the ignition keyhole. We would then take any pocket-change left inside and move on. After about an hour or so of this we decided we were finished for the night. As we were walking towards the exit of the complex feeling deflated, we see an old white piece-of-crap Suburban parked in a dirt lot. We pull the handle on the driver’s side and it opened. Once again I penetrated the ignition with the screwdriver while Larry kept lookout. To our surprise and delight, this old truck started right up! We were totally shocked and elated… It was time to go for a ride.
Because Larry’s dad owned a construction company, he grew up having some experience driving all different types of industrial vehicles. For this reason, we decided that he should be the first to take the wheel. We took our joyride all around the local area. After a while it was my turn to try. It was bumpy at first but I soon got the hang of it. After about 45 minutes, we parked the truck exactly where we found it as to not leave any evidence of us “borrowing” the vehicle. We walked back towards our homes at around 3am with pride. We now had wheels. We saw each other a few hours later at the school bus stop on the corner of Clinton Rd and Brook St. With a high five we sealed the deal. In just a few nights we were actually headed to Montclair for an after-hours secret rendezvous…. There was magic in the air.
The days moved slowly as our anticipation grew. On this Friday night we would have a private get-together with cute girls older and cooler than us. Finally, the day arrived and we made plans ala the first paragraph of this article. Once meeting at 1am, we walked back to where the truck was parked. It again was unlocked and started right up. Larry took the wheel and we headed up a desolate Bloomfield Ave in the middle of the night. As we were cruising along, I distinctly remember turning on the radio and the new hit song at the time “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC blasted through the crappy truck speakers. We were on our way! Everything was going smoothly until we were driving through Verona, the city just before reaching Montclair. A police car began to follow us closely. We were freaking out and trying to figure out what to do. I told Larry to pull into a side-street. He quickly did so and then took another quick turn onto another street. We nabbed the closest parallel parking spot available in this residential neighborhood then killed the lights and motor.
We immediately ducked down hoping we lost the cop. I peeked up over the seat towards the rear and saw the parking lights of the police cruiser at the end of the street. I can only guess in hindsight that the officer was running the plates. Because the owner of our “borrowed’ vehicle had no idea the truck was missing, the plates must of came back clean. Larry and I sunk as low to the floor as we possibly could as the patrolman slowly drove right past us and headed back towards the main thoroughfare. As soon as the police vehicle was out of view, Larry quickly followed me out the passenger side door and we hid in some nearby bushes. We waited about 20 minutes to be sure the law wouldn’t return.
For the record: We were scared to death! If our parents were called in the am-hours to pick us up at a police station for the charge of Grand-Theft-Auto, I don’t believe I would have made it to my 16th birthday.
We eventually jumped back in the truck and drove to our ladies in waiting. They asked “What took you so long?” We had a great story to tell as we all shared beer and Mad Dog 20/20. We had an amazing fun night and headed back to Fairfield before dawn. Once there, we parked the truck in the same original spot. From that point forward we utilized this vehicle for more middle-of-the-night adventures for about a month or so. The owner eventually got wise to someone using his truck and took the distributor cap off after work rendering the vehicle unusable. What gave us away? I can only assume that he was wondering why his gas was running low so quickly. Not at anytime did we ever stop at a gas station during our late-night escapades.
For some unknown reason, even to myself, I tended to get into trouble at a very young age. While in the 3rd grade at Churchill Elementary in Fairfield, NJ, I met a friend in the classroom named Michael. As kids do, we got to talking and messing around. One day I suggested that we burn the school down and he agreed (Yeah, burn.. down.. the school…. 3rd FN grade). It was a pretty simple plan really; I would bring in a pack of matches the next day. We would put masking tape over the strike plate to prevent the classroom door from locking for easy access. Next, we would enter the empty classroom during lunch hour while everyone was out at the playground. We would then light the large paper closet on fire, get out of there quickly and watch the chaos unravel.
The next day when I arrived at school, I pulled a book of matches out of my pocket and showed Michael, it was on. Within a few hours this place we didn’t want to go to anymore would be gone. Everyday would be a snow-day from now on and all the kids would thank us for it. Minutes before the lunch bell rang, I attempted to tape the strike plate up as planned while our teacher, Mrs. Raidus, wasn’t looking. The masking tape wasn’t sticking properly, so I rolled it up in a ball and filled the entire hole where the lock latch goes in. You have to understand that this was not a deadbolt; it was an auto locking mechanism. From inside the classroom you could exit at anytime without a key. From the hallway side you needed a key to unlock the handle for entry. If my idea worked correctly, the tape ball should block the latch from entering the strike plate hole and the door should open right up when pulled…. To be continued….
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ZACHARY KIBBEE / This Love Is For Everyone
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JOYOUS WOLF / Mother Rebel
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