Or chases in this case. Murph had his father's Pontiac. Depue had his father's 1949 Plymouth and I had my speedy '49 Ford convertible with Crestline chrome, Carson top,Custom grill, Skirts, Nosed, Decked, Lowered, Duel Stromberg 97s Milled heads, Mallory ignition and wicked pipes. Red.
Brookville was a nice quiet community in those days. Not much there except a police station( I was familiar with the decor of that establishment) a few shops, and estates for the rich and very private. All gated. All patrolled. I'm talking the northern equivalent of Red Hills plantations. Big.
And the roads they had were just perfect for car tag. Well maintained dirt and gravel, narrow but no holes or major bumps. Miles of them. All private.
So the four of us, Max with me, decide to have another game of car tag. That is essentially a race around narrow private dirt roads in cars that by rule must be close to each other. The leader must not leave the others in the dust, so to speak. If somebody gets a chance to pass, go for it, but don't pull too far ahead.
Now these estates all had big closed gates in those days with a gatekeeper of some type. Lived by the gate or was stationed there. Nobody got in by accident. Neither did we.
These estates also all had service entrances that were equipped with gates that were seldom closed in the daytime. Simple. Sneak quietly onto the property by the back door and then race like the devil is on your tail around the roads, being careful not to get too near the house.
So here we were, again, racing around the estate, Murph in the lead , me and Max second by a hair and Depue bringing up the rear. He notices a fourth player. On his tail is a pickup blowing the horn and gesturing wildly. Depue blows his horn and I see the truck. I blow my horn but Murph doesn't hear it. We keep racing ahead and I see the turn that takes us out and take it. Depue sees it and follows me. Murph is oblivious and keeps on racing. Now with only the pickup on his tail. We haul butt out and onto the paved road, pull over on a country stretch to wait. About 3o minutes later, here he comes. He raced the guy all around the place until he finally looked in the mirror (lots of dust makes this plausible) then keeps going until he finds the way out. The truck stopped at the road and Murph kept hauling ass until he caught up with us.
We raced all the way home.
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