It’s been about 3 months since I’ve seen Jimi. He’s where he needs to be. Away from the city, in the sunny mountains of Santa Cruz. Surrounded by acres of forest, all kinds of bugs and birds, the creek sits right behind the house.
Cutting between houses, free range chicken coops, and abandoned railroads will lead you to the convenience store. Climb up and over a few more hills, look down a few more trails, and you’ll get into town.
It’s my first night out so I’m gonna kick it with the boys. See what they get into around here. I didn’t expect so much excitement on the mountain.
A couple of the guys drive; Race. Up and down the mountain drifting around sharp corners, burning rubber with short stops. I’ve had a few cups of wine by the time all the guys get to the house. I’m sure I puffed a little, too.
Two cars lead the way. Me, Jimi and Forest ride with Lance in his mom’s civic. No street lights mean we take flashlights. And beer. Twisting up and around the mountain only to stop where another driver drove right into a ditch. The perfect pocket for his car. I’m pretty sure it’s fine, and he isn’t hurt too bad, but what the fuck…
Forest and Lance hop into the car to get Mike, Jimi and Forest’s step dad. He can haul the car out with his pick up. He’s got one of those save a hoe (car) belts.
In the 30 min we wait for help in the dark woods, I look up to see the clearest, brightest stars. The boys keep inspecting the car. We roll a J to keep us at ease. The stars keep making all this magic.
The boys get back, hook up the holster and Mike revs the engine. Up and out the hole the car’s pulled by the pick up, and mid air Forest jumps on the side of the car attempting to keep it from flying into another tree. Why the fuck would he do that?
My jaw drops in disbelief as I watch him fly into the air, holding on to the car and then back down on his feet again beside it on the ground.
“Forest, what the fuck?!”
Jimi walks over to me breathing heavily as if he was holding his breath for the entire scene. I can’t help but to laugh at how insane the entire thing was. No one got hurt, and the car was pretty much in perfect fucking condition. So let’s roll.
We’re taking it easy but they’re gonna race anyway. Without me. Too dangerous for my life. I heard about this Fast and the Furious business. No thanks.
Hot box the car, music and beer in the dark of the woods, sitting on the engine, and peeing behind trees. From spot to spot on the road, close encounters with other cars, and doobies of hash rolled, day one on the mountain seems promising.