It was another Friday night out on Masser Road. We had parked hours earlier
and drank many beers and smoked ganja. Our buddy Snydo was designated driver, and he was wasted.
His door opened up when we were leaving, and he fell out of the car.
“Vance grab the steering wheel!”
He didn’t budge. As we went through a barbed-wire fence, I jumped from the back seat and grabbed the steering wheel. We bounced through a cornfield and then came to an abrupt stop. I ended up with my head resting on the dash and my legs straddling Vance’s head.
We got the door open and tumbled out. We looked back and saw Snydo laying in the middle of the road. He was giving us a thumbs up. What a trooper!
Between lies and good luck we didn’t get into any trouble for this,
and we tried to do it again the following Friday.