Where do I begin? Dragging Brookside was THE place to be. Cruising, picking up chicks, or them picking up guys, was what Friday and Saturday nights were all about. Each mile had its own social groups occupying different parking lots.
There was a
Safeway lot which housed the goat ropers and kids. Next were various lots with "tough guys"
and their wenches. The first Arby's in town was occupied by bikers. Farther
south, the cool people took over all the way to Der Wienerschnitzel. Bellaire
Village was where guys met to race for "pink slips". My neighbor had a 1965 short bed Ford truck
with a hot 352 and all eight open exhaust exiting out the back. He did a
burn-out in that parking lot which completely obscured the
Camelot Inn one night. Actually more than once! The fast guys would check out each other's cars and decide if they thought
their muscle car would win in a race down Highway 75, or, if the other guy would
walk off with their cherry machine. Things occasionally got tense... (It was so much fun!)
One Saturday, my brother was challenged by a guy named Rusty. Rusty had a 1969 440
six-pack Roadrunner that had been unbeatable. My brother had a 1969 SS 396
Camaro. Well, the plate said 396 but it was a really a 427, with over
They were going to race the Beeline for titles. We took
off to get gas and Rusty sent a spy to watch us. We noticed the guy and went all
the way over to Garnett for fuel. When we got back on I-44, the guy was right
behind us. My brother floored the beast and left the other car's lights back in the
stone age. We were going about 130 after a mile. (With slicks, it would do that
in a 1/4 mile at the drag strip) Well, the spy finally showed up and told
Rusty that things weren't quite what they appeared to be at first glance, so Rusty backed out of the deal. The wuss. And that's the way it
was back then.
Sometimes I'm reminded of Charlton Heston in "Planet Of the
Apes" when I think about the crappy, front wheel drive, ugly, modern cars and high fuel prices: "Damn you!
Damn you all to hell!" :)