Egging cars, being dumb

In the cover of darkness we waited, the choking stench of mid-Autumn decayed leaves around us, moss slick on the stones, and the bite of the October air.

Otto had the eggs – they were, after all, his, rightfully stolen from the fridge in his house.

“You’re too chicken shit” I taunted, and a quick snap of his head and a glare fixed me quick.

“There’s one!” Otto’s course voice hung in the thin air.

Time, oh sweet time, every now and then a moment lasts an eternity: your first kiss, the first time you realize you love someone, the first time you find the male g-spot and have a 45 second orgasm, the first time you throw that egg at an unsuspecting vehicle traversing an unlit country road in the middle of nowhere.

The doppler compression of the car’s engine betrayed the approach more than the headlights.

Otto tensed, lowered his right arm back, nearly grazing me and dropping the egg in the process, and let loose with an overhead lob as I, panicked, tried to duck down as much as possible but still high enough to see what was happening; I couldn’t miss this, man, it was too good.

“Shit!”

The car raced past, oblivious to the near-egg incident.

“It hit the road behind him… didn’t want to go too soon, though.” We darted out, slipping on the leaves and moss and tried, in faint moonlight, to find the remnants on the road.

“Ah, here it is, sure enough. Fuckin’ A, man, I didn’t think you’d do it – did you miss on purpose?” He knew I was messing with him. Otto was a baseball player and didn’t often flub a pitch, so I knew he was our throwin’ man from the outset. Me, I couldn’t hit the broad side of a building from 20 feet away.

The tell-tale of high-beams hitting the telephone wires caught our glance and we both jumped the wall and got back into position. This one was too close; we’d waited too long to reposition ourselves. Another half hour passed and we just bullshitted about this and that and other boyish bragging.

“Fuck, maybe we should head back and call it a night?” The cold and the stink were getting to me, and I’d rather be back at his house hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister. She was 3 years older than us and not entirely all that attractive, but I was barely post pubescent and I’d managed to see her panties in her laundry basket one day. They were silky and brightly colored, stuff of legend, and I’d never known a real girl that actually wore stuff like that. I wished I had the nerve to steal them or sniff them or anything. Of course I was a total wussy and didn’t do anything but use them as fodder for whacking several times. Such is the boy’s life.

The tops of the trees lit up first, followed by the tell-tale wires, and we knew we were in business. Finally. I was freezing my nuts off here.

Otto readied his egg, determined to do some real-time calibration and land his mark.

“Okay, okay,” I whispered, getting a little giddy. Otto barely noticed, and managed to tell me to shut up without even turning back to look at me.

When the Challenger Shuttle exploded in 1986, I was home sick. It was January, and it was sunny out. I remember staring in disbelief, thinking, “Is this something that’s supposed to happen? Why aren’t they freaking out?” The person on the intercom didn’t seem to notice the explosion and kept on going. It was surreal, and time was going very slowly. You know, maybe it was Kennedy for you, or John Lennon, or 9/11. You just can’t believe it as it’s happening and it’s all so unreal.

What seemed like hours later, the egg let loose in a sterile and pathetic “crack” and, at first, the car didn’t stop.

“Did you hit it?” “I think so” “Nnnn” “Yeah, I heard it hit the win- fuck! Run!”

The nose of the car dove as the brakes slammed, pre-anti-lock brake days, and then my heart dropped as I saw the reverse lights flicker and heard the gears switch and the subsequent “rwaaaaa” in the way that backing up really fast in your car sounds.

Run!

Otto had the pitching arm but I was a tiny, squirrely, quick little fucker. My heart was pounding and the memory of the field of illumination of the headlights lowering had me hauling ass across the field, making a break for the mass of a few hundred acres of woods on the other side.

A car door. Shit!

I paused for a moment to look back and Otto was losing ground to me; he never was good at fleeing in the night – he was always falling, stumbling, and cursing and I inevitably had to come back for his pokey hide.

Shouting. Fuuuuck!

Nearing the far side of the meadow, I stopped to peer back at the road. We had gained some elevation and the night was cloudy and near pitch-black, so I could see the faraway glow and knew the car was down the road, back to god-knows-where, home to fuck his wife, or maybe just back from the gay bar, who knows. The important thing was he called off the chase.

We had picked this spot because there were no driveways off the road for a long ways… so an angry victim would have to leave his car in the road, which is always dangerous even in the daytime on twisted New England back roads. We never imagined anyone would actually get out of the car.

“He’s gone…” I sighed and Otto collapsed on the ground, laughing like a crazy man. I managed to work past my fear and I mustered up a grin and let out a relieved laugh or two myself.

“Damn, you did good,” I tried to sound reassuring, as if he needed my fucking opinion of his throwing skills. I’m such a fucktard sometimes.

We made our way in a roundabout fashion back to his house, sneaking back in the way we’d come out: the basement. Otto’s house was on a hill so the basement had a full-sized door. This was crucial because it was quiet, unlike the loud, heavy bulkheads the rest of the neighborhood had for cellar access, so his house was prime real-estate for sneaking out at night. It helped that his parents were oblivious.

Back up in Otto’s room (his sister’s door was closed – damn!), we were watching out the window and saw some flashlights in the field. Seems our friend managed to call the cops before heading back to that gay bar. We were long gone and had concealed our tracks, so we thought this was even more amusing and had quite a few more laughs about it.

We never did egg a car after that night. Stupid kids.