Too close for comfort
OR
A Halloween to remember

Wrong number

Sometime in the months prior to this episode in my life, I'd made a long distance phone call to New York, New York. A call which would help further commit me to the transformation of my 1969 Mustang into a supercar.

I'd run across an ad in a major car magazine of the period offering for sale an honest-to-God Ford GT-40, such as raced at Le Mans.

No price was given. I knew it was probably fairly expensive, but what did it hurt to ask? Heck: what if I was lucky, and it was a piece of junk requiring major work, and they'd let me have it cheap? Or maybe a little old lady had it, and didn't know what it was?

Yep! I was dreaming big all right!

So I called. The asking price was $50,000. I thanked the guy for the info. I was stunned by the amount. This was the 1970s, after all.

So anyway, after that I knew I had no chance at getting a real GT-40. I'd just have to nudge Shadow as close as I could to being one, with what few dollars and junk parts I could scrounge up.

Yeah, I know it sounds pathetic. But you might be surprised by what you can end up with, when you begin with a 1969 Mach One Mustang, a champion junk-storming dad, cheap Boss Mustang parts from junkyards, useful discards from a large factory and a hot rod shop, tons of hot-rodding info from magazines and real life racers, and a teenage male needing a way to work off his romantic frustrations.

My on-going and fruitless crush on Sue Anne had driven me into doing a lot of modifications to Shadowfast, as I sought relief from the utter despair of my existence by way of hands-on automotive design and construction.

I'd by no means completed Shadow's transformation this soon after the GT-40 disillusionment. But I'd made a good start.

I'd boosted his braking power with metallic linings all the way around, plus opened the fake factory cooling scoops behind his door handles, and ducted their air into the rear fender wells, where they could cool the rear brakes. Just like a GT-40.

I'd converted his 1969 quad headlight system to a 1970 twin design, primarily in order to gain four more fake scoops, which I could after that open up to cool the front brakes. Again, just like a GT-40.

I'd installed traction bars quite some time before. And recently staggered the car's rear shocks, in a manner seen on four speed equipped Mach Ones and Shelby GTs.

Virtually the entire rear of Shadow's interior was now missing, due to my need to access normally hidden spaces for the rear scoop ducting and shocks work, plus remove flammable materials from the work area required for installing the roll cage.

(Roll cages are networks of metal piping inside a car that are meant to prevent the passenger compartment from being crushed in crashes; so they're a safety requirement for many professional stunt and race cars. The cages can also help to stiffen or strengthen a vehicle overall, and in that way prevent or limit any damage stemming from certain types of extreme maneuvers or collisions. Lastly, this same stiffening can also improve a vehicle's handling on the road: help it to maneuver and round curves faster, without loss of control, as well as accelerate and brake more efficiently. In long distance drives, such a stiffer chassis may even aid gas mileage by a bit.)

The roll cage itself was pretty much complete by now-- though much of the welding was just days old. And I was still tweaking it here and there.

For instance, something made me decide to tie the uppermost corners of the main roll bar into the perimeter framework of the car's interior roof.

There were some good reasons not to do that. Like the fact that the framework around the roof was much skimpier than other welding points. Plus there was the thin sheet metal of the roof behind the frame. All of that could have been warped out of shape or even burned through if I wasn't careful. Finally, I wasn't aware of anyone else who did this: welded the roll bar to the roof frame, in their race or stunt cars. And I knew of several real life race car builders, as well as regularly read magazine articles about more famous versions, and how they built their cars.

I suppose most didn't do it back then because many race cars require extensive modularity for easy repair and replacement of parts. And many race cars are relatively short-lived as well, with owners possibly junking one entirely to replace it with a different vehicle maybe every year (if not more often).

But afterwards I'd be damn glad I'd made those last tie-ins on my own car. For they would serve Shadow and I well in what was to come (and I sure as hell wanted Shadow to last longer than merely a few months, or a year or two).

The roll cage at this stage didn't possess the gray padding it would later on (it took me a while to discover that perfect, low cost roll bar padding existed in the form of commercially sold thermal pipe insulation for home plumbing systems).

Shadow looked pretty bad inside now, with bare metal showing where his rear interior upholstery normally belonged. But that interior space was much bigger than standard now too, due to my expanding it into some of the volume formally occupied by the trunk.

The removal of interior parts and sound deadening insulation (in combination with his previously installed headers and straight-through glass pack mufflers) made it pretty noisy inside, too.

The removal of those interior components and replacement of my regular exhaust system with headers and hot rod mufflers had lightened Shadow up a lot. I'd also taken weight off him (and added some horsepower) by replacing his standard intake with a high-rise aluminum Offenhauser. I'd replaced my small fake Mach One hood scoop with a much bigger Boss 429 design, cut a hole in the hood underneath, and modified the air cleaner to give Shadow 24-7 ram-air.

His battery had been moved all the way back to the trunk, but was causing me problems with the extra long cable required. The new arrangement was proving to be a burden, electrical power-wise. So I was considering yet another relocation; I just wasn't sure to where. I wanted to keep some of the better weight distribution stemming from not having it (the battery) inside the engine compartment anymore...

Anyway, not long before this point, an entirely different car-related matter had come to the fore.

Namely, Dana Connor had gotten hold of a car and license.

Angel on wheels

Dana had been a little girl the same age as me, when my family moved into an idyllic setting of heavily forested countryside between my first and second grade years. Dana had lived only a couple houses up from us on our isolated dead end road, and we soon grew quite fond of one another. This was to the annoyance of my sister, who figured Dana should have been her friend rather than mine.

Our family's move had forced me to switch schools in-between first grade and second. So whatever friends of both students and teachers I'd made the previous year were now no more; I was a little guy forced to start entirely from scratch in that department.

Judging from the geek tendencies of my later years, I probably didn't have the greatest of people skills as a second grader, either.

Fortunately, Dana my neighbor was there to welcome me to the class, too.

I can't recall the circumstances of our very first meeting. Whether it was at school, or in my new neighborhood. But one of my few remaining memories of the second grade today is of dearly loving Dana Connor with all of my second grader's heart.

Over the next few years Dana and I shared great times with books both comic and other, bike adventures, hikes in the woods, and more. We also talked about everything. Mostly silly stuff. But sometimes surprisingly grown up topics too, like death and dying.

Then Dana's family suddenly moved away, so that we were apart during my fifth grade year. By that age it was becoming much more difficult to simply shrug off such losses.

To me, it was like Dana had died or something. I don't think I ever quite got over it. So anyway, fifth grade seemed a tougher than usual year for me. Not due to Dana's absence alone, I'm sure. But it was definitely an important factor. I changed from being a model student, to being ever more rebellious towards my teachers.

I also seemed to encounter a lot more bullying that year, than before. I couldn't understand where it came from or why, as it seemed to defy all logic and reason. Or at least all the logic and reason I'd picked up from my voracious reading habits, and lessons from both teachers and parents. I'd been brought up to avoid violence at almost any cost-- and been given no clue whatsoever as to when it was okay to resort to same. Part of this had to do with me being the eldest kid in my family; I'd been raised to do everything I could to avoid hurting others (and nobody's more vulnerable to accidental injury than smaller siblings).

But it seemed the bullies lived by different rules entirely. I didn't know the word 'anarchy' back then. But the bullies were brutally effective teachers of the idea.

Wholly without warning the next school year, Dana was back again. Not in my forested neighborhood unfortunately, but back at the same rural school at least-- and we immediately fell back together like we'd never been apart. It was like a miracle. Or magic. At times soon after that, I secretly fancied the notion that just maybe I'd successfully wished Dana back into my life. That I'd managed to tap into some profound aspect of the universe, which might be a real life example of the source of all those tales of magic which abounded in books and films.

I gained a bit of a harder edge dealing with bullying then, too. I still got beat up of course. But at least I began fighting back.

It may sound funny, but even then I was holding back; not wanting to hurt even the bullies too much. It'd take me a while to realize my full fist-fighting capacity wouldn't usually be very dangerous to the size, ferocity, and numbers my typical opponents possessed.

Through the next few grades things got more complicated between Dana and me. I began noticing girls in general. And thinking all new thoughts. I didn't really see Dana as one of the girls, though. After a while, I realized people thought Dana and I were girlfriend and boyfriend, and that the notion seemed to be interfering with me getting a real girlfriend. So I tried to distance myself from her. I didn't want to hurt her feelings; it was just that I basically didn't know what to do. Puberty can be very confusing.

So our relationship got strained prior to high school.

Then we hit the all new environment of the ninth grade. Completely different place, lots more people our own age (and older). Lots of new stuff going on.

Our freshman year we both got battered in various ways by the new circumstances (me physically, Dana emotionally), and sort of came back together again for a while, for reasons of mutual comfort and support.

Sophomore year seemed to get a little easier for us both, and so we grew apart again-- but not as much as before. We'd still get together at various school events sometimes, and occasionally talk on the phone.

Then around our junior year, lots more things changed. I went crazy over Sue Anne, and found a new best friend in Steve. And Dana was going her own way, too.

High school junior Dana was shorter than me. Extremely well proportioned, girl-wise: the hour glass torso, the shapely legs, the whole bit. It'd take me years to realize that Dana possessed one of the very best proportioned female bodies a man could ever hope to run across.

Dana's dark brown eyes were naturally big and beautiful-- heck, very nearly hypnotic! She had a perfect little nose, and (around mid-way through high school) long, dark brown, wavy hair, reaching halfway down her back. I sometimes teased her about her hair being the color of chocolate.

Dana didn't dress provocatively; she didn't have to. She'd blossomed into quite the sexy thing in high school. At least in the eyes of Steve, and virtually all the other guys I heard express an opinion about her.

Me, I was out of it. When I looked at Dana, I saw more of my childhood friend who'd accompanied me through thick and thin, rather than the startlingly attractive young woman she'd now become.

But my relationship with Dana seemed to protect her from Steve's advances at least. Likely because he was uncertain where I stood on the matter.

Heck: I was even more uncertain than he was! It'd just take me a while to realize it.

Fortunately (for all us boys), our high school seemed to offer far more than its fair share of exquisite and exotic girls. And not just among the students. We had a surprising number of awesomely attractive and vivacious teachers there as well (I guess maybe they represented the previous generation of hot high school girls). So Steve was never hurting for a high quality selection as he preyed on the female gender there-- students and teachers alike.

The surrounding cornucopia of stunning local girls at school may have been another reason I seemed blind to Dana's own ever growing beauty during that time. Talk about not seeing the trees for the forest...!

Dana's dad seemed to have a thing for American Motors cars. This resulted in Dana for a while driving an over-the-top, red, white, and blue paint schemed AMC Javelin AMX. 390 engine, two seater. 1969 model. It exhibited much the same amount of get up and go as Shadow himself. In a straight line, anyway.

Dana's AMX, and various other two-seater cars of the time, would help inspire Shadowfast's own eventual interior redesign.

My get-togethers with Dana during this time were pretty casual, and basically self-serving for us both. I think we saw each other as useful pals to look up whenever our more preferred contemporaries weren't available.

As we'd moved into our high school years, we'd also seemed to get more antagonistic with one another for some reason. Despite not spending that much time together any more. Maybe because we were developing new friends and interests, and couldn't help but compare and contrast (and sometimes criticize) the other's choices.

I developed my terrible crush on Sue Anne, as well as a new best friend in Steve. And Dana thought both those picks to be questionable, at best.

I must say Dana's instincts were pretty good. For Steve did border upon being a dangerous character. And he could be fairly unpredictable. But those were two of the things I liked best about him!

As for Sue Anne, Dana didn't really have much disparaging to say about her: she couldn't. Because Sue Anne was apparently close to being the model high school female Dana herself was: intelligent, beautiful, considerate, etc., etc., etc. The biggest differences between them seemed to be Sue Anne liked the spotlight and socializing a bit more than Dana, and so readily secured herself a place in the upper echelons of high school society.

No, where Sue Anne was concerned, Dana reserved the majority of her criticisms for me. I was 'too different' from Sue Anne. Even if we hit it off I wouldn't fit in with her crowd, and there'd be problems. I was 'too much of a loner', blah, blah, blah.

Dana was right of course. But just because your friend's right doesn't mean you heed their advice...

I realize certain of these accounts might make it sound like all my days with Shadow were full of excitement and adventure. But that particular glass was far closer to empty than full. That is, I endured lots more boring or annoying times with the car, than exciting ones. For instance, lying on my back underneath him trying to add or remove something-- with crud falling into my eyes and mouth-- wasn't much fun.

And even while driving him, there were plenty of hum drum moments. Like when Steve and I-- for lack of anything better to do-- might sit parked in a lot facing the main cruising drag in town, just hoping for something interesting to happen. There were plenty of nights where nothing at all (good or bad) turned up.

But there were a few nights when we did get rewarded for our patience. At least a little. This would be one of them.

There we were, sitting in that lot, when I spied a familiar 1969 Javelin AMX coming around from behind us, to pull alongside.

It was Dana, with her friend Vanessa in the passenger seat. She called out at me past Steve. "Hey Jere'!"

"Hi Dana! What's going on?"

"Oh, me and Vanessa are just out cruising around, looking for some action. You see any?"

I knew Dana meant racing, or pranks or the like. Not necessarily boys. Steve and I however included girls in our own desired 'action' menu. It was just that there always seemed to be more of everything else but girls out there, when we were cruising.

"No. Nothing much seems to be happening tonight, I'm sorry to say." Boredom was rarely in short supply, even in our at times wild hometown. Heck: over some stretches there was enough to pretty much doom anyone with insufficient endurance. Suicides among town residents seemed a frequent occurrence.

"Well, how about we give it a go?" Dana asked.

"Yeah, man. Let's race'em," Steve said eagerly.

Well, it wasn't like there was anything better to do.

Dana and I had raced before in various ways. But never at the drag strip. Just impromptu road contests.

So far I'd always managed to just barely beat her in our match-ups. Despite being pretty sure her AMX was a bit stronger, and had a higher top end than Shadow. And the fact I always did my best to avoid getting Dana hurt. And sometimes gave her a head start or other advantage. Of course, Dana wasn't above seizing advantage on her own.

There seemed to be an unfinished air about Dana and me during this time, that I couldn't quite dispel, or understand. We were drifting apart; spending less and less time together.

It's not that I was missing her. Or her I. We'd known each other long enough so that there didn't seem much else to learn about one other. And there were new and exciting people and events coming into our lives now-- often from wholly unexpected directions-- which were gradually crowding us out of each other's worlds.

It sort of felt a bit sad. But not tragic. It was just somehow unsatisfying. Like there should be more to losing a long-time best friend than that.

So Dana and I these days more and more tended to annoy one another on purpose. Like we were trying to make it easier on one another to go away, I guess.

Dana had pretty much known from the beginning about my crush on Sue Anne. And my acquisition of Steve as new best friend. As well as my increasing preoccupation with Shadowfast. These were three of the major things now squeezing Dana out of my life.

"Okay. What say we hit the interstate and see who can get to the parkway first?" I was purposely picking an easy route for reasons of safety and typically negligible law presence. Plus the route was well known to Dana; her own home exit lay only some ten miles or so past the one I proposed racing to now.

"You're on, Jere'! See you there!" Dana yelled, even as she pulled out and headed for the highway.

"Damn it Dana!" I muttered with a smile, as Steve laughed and prodded me verbally about how I'd picked too short a course, and she'd surely beat me this time.

I cranked Shadow up and tried to reduce her lead.

I knew her AMX had a pretty decent top end, so I couldn't afford for her to have too large a lead for long.

There were two main entries to the interstate within a few miles of our current location, and Dana had naturally headed for the nearest one. That entrance would also cut two miles off the distance to the parkway, compared to the other.

I briefly considered my alternatives for catching up to her, but could only come up with one (and not a very good one, at that).

Well, crap! Dana might just win this one, I realized. Steve was right; I'd chosen too short a course.

I had to scare the civilian street traffic some by jumping out of the parking lot in quite a rude fashion, as time was a wasting.

It was tricky acting this way in town, but it'd only been a few minutes since a police car passed through this way, and I knew it would likely be another 20 before the next. Plus I wasn't going to be on this particular road but just another 30 seconds or so.

Dana had went up the road to find a good place to turn around, and that way avoid the trouble I presently courted by simply darting across all lanes to get to the other side. But Dana's technique wasn't very wasteful either, resulting in her passing us just before I got Shadow successfully injected into the traffic flow. We were both now headed for an upcoming right-hand turn at a red light, which would put us onto a two mile stretch leading to the interstate entrance.

We both made the turn, me just behind her, and Dana let loose, maybe flooring it. Her AMX smoked its tires, and headed up the comparatively steep hill the highway ran up and over.

Man, we shouldn't be making a scene in the middle of town like this I thought; but I saw no coppers around, so I did the same.

Dana did show some good sense and let off the throttle a bit, to go no higher than 80 mph the rest of the way on the five lane. I did the same, as anything else was really too much for this particular stretch; and we were still in town.

Our mutual self-control allowed Dana to maintain a few car lengths distance between us the entire length of the five lane. But at the end the wide pavement abruptly narrowed down to just two lanes-- and smack in the middle of a curve too-- so Dana slowed further and I did as well, not challenging her lead at that point.

Unfortunately, once we made the interstate she'd have a top end which might be beyond my own. So if I didn't do something quick, I was bound to lose.

But I was at a loss. So sure enough she built up a significant lead on the way to the exit, once she got on the interstate. Despite Shadow and I pushing hard ourselves.

But then I was inspired, as she began slowing in preparation for the exit. I continued unabated at my own substantial speed until the last possible moment, thereby passing her on the side opposite to her access to the exit.

Then I jammed on the brakes as hard as I dared, trying to ever so slightly pump them, even as I pressed for the maximum deceleration I could muster (I didn't want to run past the exit, and so lose in that fashion).

All four tires squalled almost continuously for about 10 seconds, before I considered it okay to let off for the swerve up the exit. I made sure to check that Dana wasn't in the way, as I made a quick move into her lane-- and seized the lead onto the exit ramp.

Her AMX was only about three or four car lengths back though.

I did all this pretty quick, not allowing Dana much time to react.

You could smell the burning rubber from the high speed braking in the car for a few minutes afterwards.

As there was nowhere handy to immediately pull off once upon the parkway, I continued on, with Dana fuming behind me.

I regarded this as an excellent test of my new metallic brake linings and cooling scoops all around. They'd worked swell!

I wondered how our new and improved braking would compare to a GT-40's...

A few minutes later we both pulled our cars into one of several scenic parking areas which existed off to the side of the parkway. This particular one was the largest of them all.

Man, was Dana mad.

"You cheated!" Dana blasted me, as soon as we'd parked and were disembarking from our vehicles.

"No I didn't! The race was to the exit. I can't help it if you slowed down too early!" I grinned.

Once she was close enough, Dana punched me in the chest, as was her wont. Years before, she'd been strong enough to sting me with such strikes. But we were older now, and I'd made significant physical gains over my terminally cute friend. I just laughed.

"So what do I win this time?" I asked.

"Scalded dog ass soup," Dana told me.

While Dana and I were doing our thing, Steve was already romancing Vanessa. Steve was always, always, always on the make.

Now he and Vanessa were both leaning with their backs against Dana's AMX, sides of arms touching, talking quietly.

I knew if we didn't get done here soon, Steve might make it all lots more complicated.

"You know my car's faster than yours. Admit it!" Dana demanded.

I couldn't resist further infuriating her.

"You keep saying that Dana, and yet you keep losing," I told her, even as I had to restrain her by the wrists to prevent her from punching me in the mid-section.

"You're impossible! Impossible!" she was yelling at me. She was starting to show signs of a smile, even as she kept trying to wrestle free and deliver a meaningful blow. But Dana had lost the capacity to do much with me in that regard several years before.

"No Dana," I said gently, but mockingly. "I keep telling you my name is Jerry."

Oh, but how Dana hated it when I did that. Sort of. It was one of several long-running jokes between us. Dating back to me surprising her-- not always in the best of ways-- when we were considerably younger.

Looking back on it now, those inside jokes were really signs of mutual affection. We were getting fewer and fewer opportunities for such things as the days passed. We were each going our own way now; leaving the other behind.

Dana's continued struggling had compelled me to finally immobilize her, by positioning her warm back against me, and pinning her folded arms uselessly against her chest.

Yeah, sure, there were still moves she could have made to get out of it. But she didn't want to injure me in order to escape.

It's odd to think of that moment now: it's like it came from someone else's life. Someone who had the means to seize upon the opportunity represented by Dana then, and turn it into a life-long dream-come-true.

But I was crazy over Sue Anne. Pretty much stark, raving mad. A condition which made me almost oblivious to much else happening around me.

We rested there for a moment, breathing a little harder than we would have been without the scuffling. Dana basically in my arms. The stars all around us.

These scenic parking lots were regularly used as make out spots by folks our age.

"You really are a dog," Dana was telling me. Without turning her head to say it to my face.

"You're probably right," I replied.

"You're my dog," Dana said then.

I laughed. "How do you figure that?" I asked her.

"I raised you, and trained you. You're my dog," Dana said, like it was simple fact.

I couldn't help but laugh some more. "So that makes you my master, huh? Or is it my mistress?" I'd read some popular dog books by a famous author in elementary school. In those books, sometimes written from the dogs' perspectives, female human masters had been referred to as mistresses. More recently, I'd learned of the more adult meaning of the word.

"More like your queen, I think," Dana corrected me. "But lately you've been misbehaving. Not being a good dog at all."

"Oh? And what have I done that's so bad?" Dana and I were cheek to cheek now. It felt good. Natural. To her too, it seemed.

Dana didn't immediately answer. Then she surprised me, by putting into words what was happening to us.

"I think you're taking me for granted. But I won't always be here, you know."

"I don't mean to Dana," I said apologetically (and sincerely).

She turned away from the stars to look back over her shoulder, and into my eyes.

"Then what do you mean to do?"

"I-- I don't know. There's just so much stuff going on, these days..."

Dana sighed, and turned back to face the sky again.

"Yeah. Me too. Rick Reed's wanting to take me out sometime. I'm not sure what to tell him."

I felt something different then. But couldn't really define what it was.

"Do you like him?" I asked.

"He's all right, I suppose. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to date."

"Well, everybody else is," I said, as I gently turned us both in the direction of Steve and Vanessa, who were now making out beside the AMX.

I was surprised to find the sight sort of unsettling to me. I turned us back away again.

Dana laughed softly. "Yeah, I guess I got to start sometime. I guess you've already been on a lot of dates?" Dana probed. She knew far less about my daily activities these days, than she had in years past.

"No. Not really. Just a few." I sure hoped Dana didn't press me for details. My dates so far had been almost always disasters. Disasters of near biblical proportions, from my own perspective. Indeed, I was positive she'd by now heard of some of the larger events relating to them-- it was just that she might be unaware that certain local calamities covered in our hometown newspaper had something to do with my own dates of the time. Argh!

"So do you still like Sue Anne?" Dana asked. I winced at that. It had become something of a sore point between Dana and me of late. Plus, I hated talking about it, due to my ongoing failure to accomplish anything in that regard.

"Yeah. Unfortunately."

"Well, she's not the only fish in the sea you know," Dana told me. Basically saying the same thing I often heard from Steve himself, these days. But Steve too secretly pined away for a particular girl who'd have nothing to do with him. He just somehow dealt with it better than me.

"I know," I replied. But actually I didn't. In the throes of my horrendous crush, it seemed Sue Anne truly was the only fish in a planet-wide ocean. Other girls registered as little more than intangible ghosts floating through my field of vision, most days.

I couldn't be like Steve: seemingly able to sometimes ignore his own devastating crush for weeks at a time, to pursue other women.

"What are you going to do if Sue Anne doesn't come around?" Dana then asked. Ow! I did not want to go there. So I changed the subject.

"I want to hear about you. Who do you like these days, if not Rick Reed?"

"Oh, I don't know. They're all so weird or crazy. Or stupid."

That made me laugh. "Yeah. You're right! You're absolutely right! But a lot of the girls don't seem much better," I gave her my honest opinion.

"Yeah. That's true. But we're eventually going to have to choose somebody out of the bunch. Unless we leave town. Or..."

"Or what?" I asked, when she didn't continue.

"I don't know. Something. Anything. Sometimes I think...aww...I don't know what I think."

"Yeah. Me too," I agreed. Life truly did seem filled with insolvable dilemmas, these days.

"I wish sometimes I was a kid again. Everything wasn't so complicated then," Dana reflected.

"Yeah," I agreed.

"We had lots of fun back then, didn't we?" she asked.

"Yeah. Loads and loads. Kid America and Miss Liberty kicked ass," I referred to a couple of imaginary comic book superhero play names we'd taken for ourselves for a while. Maybe around ages ten or so? It was difficult to pin down memory-wise. In some ways it seemed like only yesterday. But in others, lifetimes ago.

Dana giggled. It felt good. I realized it'd been quite a while since I'd felt her giggle like that.

"Dana..."

"Yes?"

"I feel like-- I don't know. There's something in my head that I can't get at."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there should be a way to-- agh! I have no idea what I mean," I told her in frustration. I was seeking a way to make things better between us-- but without giving up any of my newfound freedoms. But that was one whopper of a Gordian knot!

"I think I know what you mean," Dana replied.

"You do?"

"Yes."

When she didn't elaborate, I grew annoyed. "Well, are you going to let me in on it too?"

"Mmm. No."

"Why not?"

"I don't think you're ready."

"Ready for what?"

"I don't know-- to grow up, I guess."

"Oh! So you've got the secret of growing up, huh?"

"Maybe. Some of it."

"Well, let's have it!"

"No. I told you: you're not ready."

"I can make you tell me, you know," I threatened.

"No, I don't think you can."

I moved my hands to spots I knew from past experience to be vulnerable to tickling.

"No Jere'. Don't do it. I mean it," Dana warned. But she hadn't moved her own arms to protect herself; I was no longer restraining her.

I began gently prodding her vulnerabilities, and Dana started to respond as usual...but then she suddenly seemed to get angry, and stopped me by spinning around to face me, and putting her hands on my arms.

"Stop it Jerry! I mean it!" Wow! She really seemed mad! I was surprised. And confused.

"Okay, okay! I didn't mean anything by it! What's the matter?"

Dana let out a sigh and relaxed again.

"It's nothing. I'm just feeling a bit out of sorts, I guess."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay," Dana said with an annoyed tone.

Then I had an idea. "Dana, how about we leave the lovebirds here for a while, and go for a drive?"

Dana looked over at the action happening nearby. "You think that's wise?"

"Don't worry: Steve won't go any further than Vanessa lets him." I left out my knowledge that most girls let Steve do whatever he wanted. Yikes! But I figured Vanessa would eventually end up there whether Dana and I took a joy ride tonight or not.

We tried to make sure Steve and Vanessa knew we'd be gone for a while, but they barely acknowledged our efforts. So we went on our way. We didn't get far though.

I hate to admit it, but Shadow ran out of gas. Just a little ways beyond where we'd left Steve and Vanessa. It was wholly my own fault. I'd been cutting it close lately, partly because I wanted to know exactly where 'empty' really was on my gauge for general driving purposes, and partly to save money. So several times recently I'd discovered I was still going strong even past the 'E', before I put just a tad more gas in to try another close shave. Tonight, I'd completely forgotten about my little ongoing trial, and accidentally gone too far. Especially to be way out here, miles from the nearest station. Agh!

One moment we were cruising along the parkway, and the next the engine sound disappeared, red lights lit up the dash, and my headlights got dimmer. The driving also got much more strenuous, with the power steering now out of action.

"Damn!" I uttered, as I realized my error.

"What's happening?" Dana asked.

"Oh, like an idiot, I've run out of gas."

"You're kidding, right?"

"I wish I was. We're dry as a bone." The fuel gauge needle was past the 'E'. But it seemed like it'd gone further than that, before!

In those days I didn't realize how unreliable fuel gauges could be. At least with the technology of the time. The angle your car was sitting, or even inertial changes as you drove, could affect your fuel readings significantly.

Heck: even the electrical fluctuations in your car's system might have an effect on how much remaining fuel you saw with your gauge. So even if it worked out once that you still had gas a notch or two past 'E', that didn't mean it would the next time.

Fortunately we'd made it over the topmost crest of the parkway, and were now headed downhill. So I was able to nudge the shifter into neutral and coast. Though steering the car was now akin to wrestling with an unseen opponent.

"What do we do now?" Dana posed the question.

"Get off the road and wait for Steve and Vanessa to come looking for us-- or walk back to get them, I guess." This was before I had a CB radio in Shadowfast.

"Well, if anyone walks, it's going to be you. I didn't run us out of gas!" Dana exclaimed indignantly.

"Yeah, Dana, it was my fault. So if anybody walks, I'll do it," I agreed.

I steered us to the next scenic look out, where we parked and shut off the lights.

If Steve and Vanessa came through in the AMX they'd easily see us sitting there, regardless of whether we were lit up or not. The parkway road ran immediately alongside all the pull off parking lots, with no obstacles to block the view between the two.

We now sat in not quite pitch blackness. A very small amount of light came from the stars above, and more from a handful of house lights twinkling in the distance, below the overlook. The original and larger parking lot where we left Steve and Vanessa had a single street lamp to more robustly dispel the darkness there.

"I'm sorry about this Dana," I told her.

"That's okay. So long as you didn't do it on purpose...or did you?" Dana's dark silhouette seemed to peer at me with suspicion. "Is this your way of getting a cheap date out of me?"

"What? No! Certainly not!" I couldn't believe she'd ask me that!

"Well, I suppose it worked if you did," Dana continued.

"What's that mean?"

"Well, you've got me out here alone with you now, stuck in the middle of nowhere for lord knows how long. It's a perfect set up for somebody like you."

"Hey! What do you mean 'somebody like me'? I don't trick girls, or trap them like that!" Uh oh! Saying that made me see some of my past experiences in a new light. I knew I didn't purposely do anything like that; but what about subconsciously? Yikes!

Teenagers are prone to all sorts of obsessive and phobic notions. Even baseless ones. Early in the transition to high school, I'd climbed aboard a school bus once and briefly experienced a terrible paranoia that others might be able to read my mind, and I'd never know it.

Yeah, reading too much science fiction can do stuff like that to you. That particular mental aberration passed within minutes. But I and others of my high school ilk would find ourselves often battling or suffering notions just as crazy as that one. Only in some cases for much, much longer spells.

Now, Dana's comment haunted me in much the same fashion. My mind raced with its implications.

For instance: if my dating kept to the same calamitous course of recent months, word would eventually spread among the female gender, and I'd sure enough have to purposely trick girls into going out then! Agh!

Dana was still speaking, while I tortured myself so.

"Yeah. Sure. So now that you've got me trapped here, what do you plan to do next?"

"Dana, it's not like that--" I suddenly felt defensive of my behavior.

"It's okay; I'm not going to play your little game. I just want you to tell me what your next move would be, if I hadn't wised up to your little scheme."

"Dana, it's not a little scheme--"

"Just tell me," Dana repeated.

Sheesh! The present argument seemed to have devolved into one of the kid games Dana and I had played years back. Where Dana would take on the persona of a demented cartoon character I had no choice but to humor, in order to ultimately escape or win.

But at least the new but familiar tack was easing my mind some.

"Come on. Tell me. You know how it works," Dana insisted.

"Okay, okay: give me a chance to make up something here!" I pleaded for time.

I took a moment to compose a gambit.

"I guess now that I have you under my control I'd...um..."

"Spit it out," Dana said impatiently.

"Start telling you scary stories, so you'd scrunch up against me?" I fell back onto a childhood stratagem.

"AAANNNHHH!" Dana tried to imitate the buzzer on a TV game show. "Wrong! That wouldn't work."

"Well, it's hard to come up with a good dastardly plot on the spur of the moment!" I protested.

"AAANNNHHH!" Dana penalized me a second time. "Wrong again! You're to tell me your real plan, one that took you months to think up, that's so good no girl could resist it."

"Dana, you're not--"

"AAANNNHHH!" Dana's awful verbal screech erupted a third time. "Wrong once again! You're about to lose this round, Jere'! Think fast now!" The tone of her voice gave me the impression she was enjoying this. Maybe grinning hugely. In the dim light though, it was difficult to see much.

"Okay, okay! My next move would be to...ah...tell you that I've loved you from the first moment we ever met, and I can keep it a secret no longer--" I figured Dana would get a real kick out of that, and start laughing her ass off. It was the only thing I could think of-- something like what I imagined Steve told every girl he met. And it was also pretty much what I dearly wished I could say to Sue Anne, at some perfect moment.

But instead of laughing, Dana cut me off by reaching up and taking my head in her hands, then leaning over and kissing me, smack on the lips.

Sure, we'd kissed before. But not seriously. And not in quite a while.

It felt so...strange. Being Dana and all.

Up close like this, Dana seemed wreathed in a most pleasant aroma. Our lips played a melody of intense sensuality, as we seized the opportunity to show our deep-felt affection for one another.

But things couldn't go like that for very long, without running into the gigantic road block of Sue Anne within my cranium. Yeah, I told you before I was crazy where Sue Anne was concerned.

I didn't really want to withdraw from Dana in that moment. But I felt like I had to. So I pulled my face back a little, and spoke again. "So my trap worked, huh?" I asked. Dana's eyes flew open at that; even in the present low light, I saw it. I'd figured they would. She pushed me away then.

"I don't think we should play this game any more," Dana told me.

I couldn't agree more! There was some sort of balance at risk here, it seemed. And Dana just wasn't her normal self, at the moment. I was baffled by the whole kiss thing.

"I guess I'll go round up Steve and Vanessa then," I said, not quite sure what I was thinking or feeling. Then I suddenly found myself unable to stop thinking about that kiss; it'd felt different from all the times I'd kissed her-- or she me-- in the past.

"I'm coming with you," Dana suddenly told me.

"That's okay Dana. I'll do it. It's my fault about the gas."

"No, I'm coming. I'd get fidgety waiting in the car all by myself."

"Okay." It would be nice to have some company in the dark. I usually kept a flashlight in Shadow, but didn't have one tonight. Either my dad or brother had borrowed it, or I'd neglected to return it to the car after using it myself for something at home.

We started talking again. Dana bouncing against me as we walked, arm to arm.

Almost unconsciously, we both slid one arm behind the other's back as we progressed up the hill road. Something especially sentimental was said, and we bent our heads inwards to touch.

Then we just sort of stopped dead in our tracks, looked at each other's barely discernible form in the darkness, and began sucking face once again.

I really couldn't understand what came over me. Or her. Whichever one of us initiated it that time.

I couldn't believe Dana. Or myself. Standing there in the black gloom, making out with abandon.

Then we heard a car, and lights swept over us. It was Steve and Vanessa in the AMX. We were caught in the act.

We sure got a ribbing from the two of them, as Dana drove us to get gas for Shadow-- with Vanessa and Steve crammed cozily together in the front passenger seat, and me somewhat painfully riding in the AMX's behind-the-seats storage area (Dana's AMX was a factory spec two seater-- similar to the custom interior I intended to create in Shadow. Shadow's though would be far more accommodating than the AMX's).

Dana and I were at a loss for any good explanation for our actions. It'd just sort of happened. We were both embarrassed and defensive about it.

Heck: if Dana was anything like me, she couldn't even explain it to herself!

To make matters worse, Dana noticed her necklace was missing. That necklace was important to her, being a gift from her grandmother who'd died some time back. I knew how much she liked that necklace, and hated that she had to lose it around the same time of our first ever teenage necking.

Yep, any girl kissing me seemed to pay for it in one way or another. Even Dana.

She wasn't sure when she'd last seen it. And we'd both traveled over quite a bit of real estate in just the last hour or two. Been in a town parking lot; two different lots on the parkway; two different vehicles; and walked along the parkway, too. That thing could be anywhere!

The search effort was also hampered by the lack of flashlights. Dana didn't have one in the AMX either.

I wondered what would have happened if Steve and Vanessa hadn't come when they did. For I'd seriously been entertaining thoughts of returning with Dana to Shadow for more robust love play...

The only reason Steve and Vanessa had showed up when they had, was that another car or two had pulled into their lot, effectively spooking them out of their own smooch-fest.

Our moment on the parkway definitely wasn't the end of the new thing between Dana and me. No, for the next few weeks-- if we got too near to one another-- we slapped together like two magnets, and went at it again. It was embarrassing, once we got pried back apart again. Completely incomprehensible. But if we drew too near, it'd always happen again. Agh!

What the hell was happening to us?

The overpowering attraction weakened to negligible levels if sufficient distance were injected into the mix. I could live just as I did before, whenever she wasn't close by. As could Dana, I took it. But close proximity now made us into love zombies.

With the benefit of hindsight from decades later, I'd have to guess it was all pheromones. The same stuff that had me drowning over Sue Anne. Only here with Dana, it was like we had matching key and lock. And things got incredibly intense at point blank range.

The curious thing was that my conscious mind would struggle against it the whole time. As if Sue Anne's pheromones had precedence, because they'd hit me first. Or maybe because I was so familiar with Dana, and Sue Anne was more of an intriguing unknown...I don't know. I believe now that I'd practically hypnotized myself into thinking it had to be Sue Anne or nobody (as dumb as that sounds).

Challenge at Steve's garage

We were still in our weird magnetic attraction phase when Steve hosted a shin dig at a big garage he was renting, maybe half a mile from my parents' house. The event attracted lots of high schoolers, me and Dana included.

Steve and I had moved his wrecked 1971 Boss Mustang there to convert it into a dragster. The garage was pretty old and dilapidated, but had a great concrete floor, with a built-in trench that allowed you to work underneath a car parked above. The garage also had some huge sliding doors, which could accomodate enormous vehicles being brought into the place.

One of the very first things Steve and I had used his garage for was to install Shadow's headers.

Plain old free floor space in the place was substantial too, even with Steve's Mustang taking up room inside. The garage basically consisted of this one huge room with a few support posts here and there, and a storage room and bathroom tucked away in various spots. Besides that, the garage also boasted its own graveled lots at the front and the side. There was sufficient parking for a minimum of a dozen cars. And you almost couldn't ask for an easier to find or get to location: it sat directly across from the biggest graveyard in town, smack in the middle of a major road intersection, and on one of the main three roads of the city and county combined. The building was a distinctive dark red, too.

Steve soon realized its potential, and turned it into an occasional party place. And master manipulator that he was, he usually made sure any party was at its core some sort of extra-curricular school event, so that his teen peers could more easily get permission from parents to show up.

Heck: we even had a teacher and/or teacher's assistant there at times!

So what sort of 'legitimate' school activities did Steve leverage here? Volunteer stuff. Like building floats for town parades. Organizing charity events, such as car washes. Things like that. It was brilliant!

I can't speak for everyone who attended the events; but I personally had loads of fun at them. One reason was Steve even managed to get Sue Anne to attend one of them!

But there was one garage event in particular where Dana and I had a moment. We got into a public argument there. Maybe partly in an effort to avoid clamping our faces together in front of the crowd.

The climax of the argument occurred when Dana basically challenged me and Shadow to a feat of automotive derring-do, the likes of which had never been done before (at the time, I was woefully ignorant of the subject).

"I bet you can't get to my house from town before midnight, Halloween night. Starting from your house at nine o'clock," Dana told me, in the midst of the crowd.

"What?"

She repeated herself.

I was not impressed. "That's not a bet: that's a sure thing! It's easy to get to your house! It's just a long drive, is all." Under normal circumstances it was maybe a 30 or 40 minute drive for me. I'd done it quite a few times since her family had moved there.

Dana lived close to Steve now, in the vicinity of Traveler's Bend; one of the deep boondocks regions of my home county. Her house was only some five or ten minutes from where my friends Steve and Will lived.

My family too had moved around the same time as Dana's, only in our case from our fabulous forested spread, right smack into the main and oldest suburbs in town. And into one of the oldest houses there too, I suppose.

The normal main obstacle to Traveler's Bend was a famous curve in the interstate just shy of the exit, which was incorrectly banked, and so caused horrific high speed crashes on a regular basis. Locals who traveled it regularly though never cracked up there unless they were drunk, or racing recklessly.

Beyond that (after exiting the interstate) there was actually a decent paved (but winding) road for a ways, with some steep ditches alongside here and there. Then the road turned into a lightly graveled washboard for a while. Next, the road narrowed to a single lane, with wide spots every eighth mile or so where folks could pull over to wait while another car passed by. Stuff like that. But you could reach either Steve's or Dana's houses before getting to the single lane gravel road business.

"So you think you can do it, tough guy? You and your horsey car?" Dana reiterated.

"Sure!"

"How much you want to bet?"

"I think what's more important, is how much you want to bet I can't?"

Dana's brow furrowed in thought. "You first."

"Ahh. Forget it! It's a joke anyway. There's no contest here: no race. Nothing. Show up at your house at midnight, blah, blah, blah, blah..."

"You're wrong. You can't do it. Not on Halloween night. Not if you start at nine, and have to be there by midnight."

I laughed. "Why? What on Earth could stop me so long as my car's running and I'm breathing? You'll have to do better than that, Dana."

"I want it to be a surprise," she said cryptically.

"Well, even if you've got some sort of secret weapon, I still think I'd have no problem."

Dana gave me a subtle smile, then moved closer to me.

"I'm so sure you can't do it, I'll make you an offer you can't refuse," she said with an unusual tone and facial expression. I'd never heard her talk that way before.

"Yeah? Like what?" I returned her challenge. I had as much stuff as Dana did. And I knew we were roughly in the same financial shape. I could think of nothing she could offer that I couldn't easily refuse.

She leaned right up against my ear and whispered, her hand covering her lips from the eyes all around. At least a class room's worth of our peers were watching.

As per our recent animal attraction whenever we were in close proximity, I found I had to struggle not to seize her right then and there, and start kissing her. Right in front of God and everybody. And I think Dana felt it too. For she began to shake as she whispered.

"If you win, you get me," she breathed into my ear.

I turned my face slightly towards hers, whilst expressing a skeptical look. I was getting woozy from the intensity of the attraction, and began to shiver myself. "And what the heck does that mean?" I asked.

She whispered again. "I'll do anything you want after you win-- if you win."

I looked at her standing there. "I don't believe you," I told her.

Dana's eyebrows went up. Then her brow furrowed. She stepped back from me again.

"Have I ever lied to you?" she asked. This time plenty loud for everyone else to hear.

"No."

"Have I ever broken a promise?"

"No."

"I mean it. If you win--" Dana glanced at the crowd, carefully considering her now public words-- "I'll pay up like I said."

Of course a high school crowd pretty much always assumes everything's about either sex or violence-- and they're correct astonishingly often. That meant the crowd gave Dana's statement a chorus of sound effects appropriate to the moment-- but very annoying to me.

"So are you up for it? Or not?" Dana smiled mischievously at the double-entendre. And it sure leveraged the crowd's current sentiment, encouraging them to loudly urge me to take her up on the gamble.

It didn't help matters any that most all the other guys there suddenly began offering to take up the challenge themselves. After all, Dana was one hell of a prize. For any contest.

Dana suddenly looked a lot different to me, than she had only moments before. Like suddenly her desirable woman quotient had shot up through the roof!

Egads! I had to switch mind-tracks fast, or risk public embarrassment! It didn't take much at all to light a fire in a young man like myself of the time. Unfortunate incidents related to that fact abounded at school, where all too often we boys had to sit for lengthy periods closely surrounded by some of the most amazingly attractive females in history; even as the teacher and class subject themselves were putting us to sleep. Frequently, the only way to avoid passing out was to surreptitiously admire all the lovely young ladies around you. But doing that could cost you humiliation-wise, if suddenly the teacher called you up to the front of the class for some reason. Ouch!

I wasn't thinking straight at that moment; I was still woozy from Dana coming in close for the whispered stakes.

"Well?" she prompted me for an answer. Our onlookers were waiting too. My flock of all too willing replacements urging Dana to pick one of them instead.

Man, but it can be awful tough to stand up to perceived peer pressures in high school. Especially the bigger the audience. And especially where girls are concerned.

"Yeah; sure; I guess," I collapsed in surrender, and went with the flow. There might have been a minor riot if I hadn't!

Of course there was still the possibility I might get challenged to a fist-fight for the privilege of answering Dana's call. By a half dozen different guys...but then Dana helped squelch that.

"And if you lose, I get your car," Dana said, matter-of-factly. In front of some two dozen of our peers.

The crowd got a lot quieter then, with some whispering to those who'd missed it.

"Huh?" I started to awaken from my testosterone stupor.

"Your car. If I win, I get your car," Dana repeated herself.

"No way!" I retorted, coming to my senses.

"Oh? Well, I guess the bet's off then," Dana announced in a louder voice, looking around at the crowd. "The mighty Jerry Staute's afraid he can't get his car to my house two weeks from now. You're all my witnesses! Jerry's afraid to commit to a straight-shot drive to my house on Halloween! I guess he's not the hot shot driver everybody thought he was!"

Oh man: what a predicament. Dana had corralled me nicely there. Caught me in a public place. Questioned-- and challenged-- the capabilities of both me and my car. Laid out an awesome, juicy carrot with which to lure me manhood-wise. And my resistance was making me look bad to the crowd, on more than one front.

But at least the new car stakes involved had subdued many of my would-be competitors. Or gave them pause, anyway. Especially since most or all of them knew something important about the nature of Dana's challenge, that I did not.

I tried a bit more to wiggle my way out of her trap, but she'd out-smarted me. Or out-maneuvered me. Or both.

I ended up publicly accepting her challenge, despite knowing there had to be some sort of major Gotcha! in it somewhere.

Of course I really, really wanted to bet and win anyway. To get Dana close and alone, where no one could disturb us. Wow! In my increasingly wilder and wilder flights of imagination, that scenario seemed worth the taking of quite a lot of risk to achieve.

I could not get the girl out of my head after that!

Of course, Dana faced her own potential Gotcha! in this game. For I hadn't yet had sex.

Underestimating what a young, virginal, American male would do for sex in the seventies could be a risky proposition in itself.

What happened next? Unburned bridges.

A Ford GT-40 race car.

The crumpled old photo above shows the general look of Dana's AMX. I say general, because hers seemed to have a rare or even custom paint job the likes of which I cannot find a matching photo for today. Her AMX also sported a sort of elegant loop spoiler at the rear edge of the roof, which also seems difficult to find today (and is not pictured above). Dana's car displayed a sleek red-white-and-blue paint scheme I can't find an example of anywhere now. All the AMXs on the 2007/2008 internet with R-W-B paint show it in a plain series of thick wide vertical stripes coating the car from front to back. Dana's stripes were far more modern looking and better matched to the car's body lines. I guess it's possible it was some rare, limited edition of AMX.

A top front view of an AMX.

The tail end view of an AMX (with that 390 engine, this is the view lots of folks got).

In the photo above, me and my friend (and Steve's brother) Will are standing at the overlook edge of the first parking area off the parkway described in this story. I'm the one closest to the camera. This photo was snapped maybe 10 years after the timeframe of the events related in Slip, sliding away.

This photo showcases the type of daylight views available from the parkway described in this story.

Above is a view of my poor seating arrangements in the back of Dana's AMX.

Above is a second view of the seating arrangements in an AMX like Dana's.