At 16, while most people were getting their first jobs, relationships, cars and driving lessons; I was going course, day-drinking, shoplifting, and bumming through life.
The only infinity stone I was yet to add was hitchhiking. I remember my friend Ack and I were bored stiff one afternoon.
We both were kicked out of school within months of each other and enrolled in foundation studies at a nearby alt education centre.
On this day we were the only two students in town for the weekend. The rest of our friends had left for a party in the city. On that day it all clicked.
So we walked along to the edge of town, took our hats off and put our thumbs out. My first time hitchhiking out of town. Oh boy, do I remember this one.
We hadn't had much luck at first. I began to feel a dreaded shame wash over me as I saw people I had gone to school with drive past in their starter vehicles, and occasionally they'd smile and beep their horn.
I was beginning to second guess my decision,
Then, this beaten older-model sedan swerved off the highway. A red-faced, sunglasses-wearing, sweat-drenched, 2-week-bearded maniac jumped out and yelled "CAN EITHER OF YOU DRIVE?"
Ack and I exchanged glances and shook our heads at the driver.
The driver yanked his door with a violent tug, "WELL HOP THE FUCK IN THEN!"
This man didn't look strange but he looked dangerous. Not the chopped up and put in a freezer type of dangerous but dangerous nonetheless.
But we knew that if we were going to attend the party, we were going to need to get into that car. So we did as he said and made our way down the motorway.
It became apparent to me pretty quickly, as I watched the steering wheel, that the driver had bloodied tissue stuck to his knuckles.
"Know how to roll?" Our driver asked Ack, who had decided to ride shotgun.
"Yeah man."
"Do you smoke?"
"Yeah man."
"Roll one for yourself too. How about you, do you smoke?" The driver asked, looking back at me through his rear view mirror. In the mirror I saw that his eyes were very glassy, they seemed shiny but not bloodshot, darting around erratically.
"I'm good, thank you." I replied, shuffling about in my seat.
Ack passed the driver his cigarette. The driver took both hands off the steering wheel to light it before resuming the drive.
The driver didn't crack his window, I felt the smoke pierce my nostrils, So I covered my nose with my plaid shirt.
"Sorry man, can I use those matches?" Ack asked the driver.
"Yeah, fuck." replied the driver, tossing Ack a pack of beehive matches.
Ack lit his cigarette and cracked his window. Thank God.
"Sorry man, what'd you say your name was?"
"Batch." replied the driver, ashing onto his floor mat.
Ack noticed Batch's action, and Batch noticed Ack noticing. "Don't worry, it makes the carpet grow."
"Does it actually?"
"Carpet doesn't grow." I answered, shuffling about in my seat.
Batch let out a wheezy laugh, "You see? This kids onto it, I don't know about you, ya fuckin' slow cunt."
Batch's phone began to ring. He wrestled with his Jean pockets and noticed a particular caller ID. He let out a sigh and answered, "Hello?…Oh!…Oh fuck up!…Oh!…NAH!" He tossed the phone over to Ack, "You talk to her. I don't wanna stress about that bullshit!"
The driver began to itch at his collar and wipe his forehead with his hand.
All of a sudden I remembered why people would say hitchhiking was bad. Being locked into a conversation with a complete stranger that you otherwise would not talk to on the street. What was I thinking?
Ack pressed the phone to his ear and began to speak to her. Then he passed the phone back to Batch. 'She hung up.'
"Fuckin' classic!" Batch replied, tucking his phone back into his jeans with one hand.
I watched his other hand tighten around the steering wheel as blood began to run down from his freshly opened wound. "Christ!"
We made our way further down the highway, Batch rattling on the steering wheel, blood leaking into his lap. Then I noticed empty beer cans laying at my feet, and a box of beer sitting next to me buckled in place.
I thought about whether I should take a couple. Ack and I didn't have any money to buy Alcohol for the party. And we were both still minors. The way I saw it this was our one surefire way to get trolled at the party.
A can or two wouldn't suffice, we'd need to take the damned box. The only problem was that with ol' cracked out Batch looking back at me every ten seconds there was no way in hell Ack and I would be able to get away with this.
I looked back up from the beer box and saw Ack steering for Batch while Batch was on his phone dialling a number.
Batch pressed the phone to his ear again and yelled, "LISTEN TO ME!…NO!…EUGH!!!"
This time he tossed the phone into my lap. I picked it up and said, "Hello?"
"Who the fuck is this?" An angry woman cursed.
"Max," I replied.
"Max?"
"Yeah."
"Do you think it's safe to be in the car with Batch right now?!"
"I don't know," I looked up and noticed that Ack was still steering and Batch fished around in the back for a can. "He seems to be alright." I added.
"Alright!? He just smashed out my windows!! You're all getting fucked for this!!!"
Batch turned his head, "What's that bitch saying?"
"Hello?" I spoke into the phone. She'd hung up again.
"She hung up didn't she?" Batch asked, snatching his phone off me, "Fuckin' classic that is!" he cracked open a beer, "Get your hands off my wheel punk!"
Ack let go of the steering wheel and shrank back into his seat.
Batch skulled back his can and threw it out the window, "If there's one thing I can say to you two lads is never marry a woman who owns her own house. They expect the world from you!"
Ack locked his eyes onto the box of beers in the back, "Can I have a beer?"
"How old are you?"
"18."
"Like shit you are." Batch laughed, gripping a beer from the back and tossing it into Ack's lap, "Go on then."
This boggled my mind. This whole time I was contemplating stealing the box when Batch was willing to give us the beers for free. "Can I grab one too?"
"Yeah, fuck. Knock yourself out." Batch replied, "But give me one too."
My first time hitchhiking was also my first time in a car with a drunk driver. I could only have hoped it would be my last.
Towards the end of our trip we were close enough to the city in which we could have walked the rest of the way. But in my heart I wanted to see just how demented this Batch train would go, and I'm pretty certain Ack thought so too.
We were at a red light in banked up city traffic. I had three beer cans tucked into my baggy pants that I was saving for the party. Meanwhile Ack had necked every last drop of his.
Batch locked eyes onto an attractive woman with long, wavy black hair and hoop earrings in the car next to us. She wasn't returning his gaze. "Hey there love, know where to score any dack?"
She simply grimaced and sped off at the green. Batch rolled his window back up in defeat and zoomed off also. Dack, a 70s slang word for Weed. If that didn't sound like nark I didn't know what did.
"I'll get you a box and a pack of smokes for your little party aye?" Batch offered, dragging on his cigarette.
Ack raised his hand for a high five, "You know what we call guys like you in our hometown, bro? We call them good cunts."
Batch reacted as if he'd been pinned a badge of honour, "Yeah, that's right. I'm a fuckin' good cunt alright."
He parked us up at a nearby liquor store, hopped out, leaned inside his car door and said, "If either of you try to steal my car I'll hunt you down and kill you."
Ack and I went quiet. Then Batch went inside.
Soon after he entered a police patrol car rolled up behind us and an officer approached the vehicle.
"Ack!" I warned, unloading my pocket cans.
"Hng?" he asked in a daze.
The cop tapped on Ack's window, noticing the empty beer cans on the floor and a half-empty one in his hand.
I sat stiff not knowing what to do. Ack opened his car door and we were ordered to stand outside.
Batch returned with an 18pk of cheap double brown beer and a Tailor made cigarette tucked behind his ear. Locked eyes with the cop. The cop locked eyes with him. Batch dropped the box of beer and began running down the busy street. The cop began chasing after him. Pulled out a taser and shot 50 thousand volts into him. Dropping him like a sack of shit.
I went to grab the abandoned box but then the hand of god grabbed me by the scruff of the shirt and forced me back against the car.
My mind began to race, I'd never been arrested before. Surely they couldn't arrest me? I hadn't even drunk. Then I felt the cuffs slide around my wrists and tighten to tight they cut off my circulation.
For a moment I had forgotten, Boys in blue always roll in a pair of two.