Cruising the Backroads on Friday night

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Another Friday night out–
Vance, Tish, Karl, and myself parked out on Masser Road. We were drinking beers, and smoking some weed. I was driving my father’s red and black Ford LTD with a big 351 engine.
What happened that night we wouldn’t soon forget.

There is a bridge where Masser turns into Opossomtown Pike,
and a small hill before the bridge, which we hit going about 85 miles per hour.
We shot into the air and stayed in the air for about thirty feet.
We landed on the other side of the bridge in a patch of gravel. The car turned sideways, and we skidded for another twenty feet, and stopped maybe one inch from a large oak tree.
Dead silence reigned for about three seconds, then uproarious laughter erupted.

The next day, Dad wanted to know why his car smelt funny.
Tish had shit his pants in mid-air, and we had cleaned it up, but,
I sprayed the back seat with Right Guard deodorant, and it did smell funny.
That was all we talked about that week, and then it became a fond memory.

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