Jay

One nice Summer evening of I think 1982 my friend Jay picked me up from 501 at about seven. Jay had a red 1972 Buick convertible that leaked at the windshield when it rained. We headed South on Pfingsten to Dundee Rd. and turned West towards Wheeling. A short while past Milwaukee Ave. was the Market Square restaurant which we frequented. We were seated, and proceeded to order fries and beers. Now I was only 15 at the time, and Jay was 17. However, Market Square never carded. After downing a few more beers each and a couple of cheeseburgers we left to go to the movie theater. This was the $1 theater.

We watched Rocky III, which was a little tired as a franchise.  As we were leaving, I noticed Jay weaving a bit.

We were about a mile from the theater going East on Dundee when he suddenly shouted “I can’t steer!” and threw his arms up in the air. Not knowing what to do, I grabbed the wheel and told him to get off the gas. I found a drive that we could pull into and put the car in. “Jay… what did you take?” I asked him quietly. “Two tabs of acid.” He giggled.

“That’s it, get out of the car, switch with me.” I said. And he did.

Now I had a choice here, drive the car home and risk the consequences or flag someone down for help and potentially get the cops involved. Neither option seemed like a real winner. I decided that taking the risk and driving the car home was the lesser of two evils. I could always plead extenuating circumstances if I had to.

I fired up the Buick and got back on Dundee. I made it back to 501. I had two beds in my room, as it wasn’t uncommon to have guests. Jay had a nice safe place to enjoy his trip. The next day we talked about the potential consequences of not informing the passengers about the driver being stoned.