Crusin' for chicks...

Friday night, 1964. As usual we were downtown showin' off, street racin', and crusin' for chicks. This is a true story. I have only changed the name because I'm not sure how to spell Sterling Keminskie. This is the true American Graffiti, Eugene Oregon edition.

Every weekend was about the same. Run up and down the streets wastin' gas, chirpin' tires, and looking for girls that would like to jump in the car with a couple guys that just put their last two dollars in the gas tank. Girls like that were quite rare in Eugene. If Keminskie was here he could vouch for that. We never got lucky, except for that one night. Two unattended young ladies accepted our invitation to go for a ride. I'm going to skip the middle part of the story, from the pick up until we ended up parked at the rose garden because it really isn't very interesting, and get right to the good part.

The girls. One young lady was quite attractive, and sense it was my car and I was a year older than Keminskie, I got the cute chick. Sterling got the other one that could best be described as large. Quite large if I remember correctly. Things were starting to get interesting in the front seat when my new lady friend pointed out that nothing was happening in the back seat. She was reluctant to continue with our mutual exploration if we were the only ones fogging up the windows. I excused myself for a bathroom break and Sterling was eager to join me. I explained the situation to him and told him that with his cooperation, this could be my lucky night. Just talk to her if nothing else. "About what?" he said. Damn it Sterling! Just think of something!

We returned to the car and soon things were starting to cook in the front seat again, and then again my now eager partner noticed nothing happening in the back seat. I glared at Sterling over the seat and mouthed the word TALK! I was about to resume my exploration yet again when we heard Sterling ask, "Do you have much trouble with that wart on your lip?"

My memory is a little fuzzy after that. Sterling could finish the story better than I. He was a lot closer to the action. We dropped the girls off back downtown where we found them and went home. We were about out of gas anyway

John