A friend and I driving around in his father\u2019s car, both of us sixteen with raging hormones.
\nA hot, voluptuous girl our age thumbs a ride. My friend gives her a lift. <\/p>\n
She gets in the car in the front seat next to me, her perfume exhilarating. She rubs my leg and calls me chicken.<\/p>\n
But I was unaffected, not even tempted to react to her challenge despite her beautiful face and voluptuous body. <\/p>\n
She was sloppy drunk, and a woman drunk has always been a turn off to me.<\/p>\n
Plus, it just wouldn\u2019t have been right to take advantage of her in that vulnerable condition.<\/p>\n
Though a troubled kid, I had some principles, and in some cases a solid sense of right and wrong.<\/p>\n
But if I\u2019d met her at a dance sober and looking as good as she did, I would have been enamored and wanting to get to know her.<\/p>\n
Surprisingly, when we let her off at her destination, she thanked me for not taking advantage of her. <\/p>\n
That was one of the few times I shined like a star in my wayward, wrong side of the tracks, troubled youth. <\/p>\n
I remember it and write about it because of the rarity of me doing anything right and memorable when I was a teenage greaser, a loser and a rebel, though never a bully or in trouble with the Law. <\/p>\n
Bob Boyd<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A friend and I driving around in his father\u2019s car, both of us sixteen with raging hormones. A hot, voluptuous girl our age thumbs a ride. My friend gives her a lift. She gets in the car in the front seat next to me, her perfume exhilarating. She rubs my leg and calls me chicken.… Continue reading