At the time I owned a 1967 Chevelle Malibu and was cruising 'round the back roads with 3 other guys. We of coarse were getting stoned on some of that great Columbian I had a connection for. The best and laughingest pot ever. I handed the five remaining joints to one of my colleges to hold on to for me. Shit!...I didn't want it in my possession.
We arrived at the Hunt Club and man it was packed. Lots of Connecticut plates. Lots of locals were there that night too.
The hunt club was owned by Mrs. Hunt who had a fox for a daughter, Michelle, and Gene a blatant homosexual who used to tend bar. The place was smoky and noisy all the time. Someone who I knew came up to me and said," The pigs are out there messing with your car, you better go see what's happening." I had gotten three joints back from Mark a few minutes earlier but one was still missing. So I then went outside to check out what was going on.
Lights were flashing when I arrived at my car. I asked what was wrong and was quickly asked if this was my vehicle. "Yes " I said. Then he ordered me to open the door. I complied being I had no rights whatsoever back in 1970. Upon opening the door my eyes saw the worst thing possible. The missing joint, right there on the floor. I'm busted, went racing through my mind. Jail, lawyers, my parents, my freedom! I'm fucked.
Then with one felt swoop he hastily pushed me out of his way and with the other hand went right to my overhead visor. That's when a miracle occurred. I had put a bag of peanut M&Ms up there earlier knowing I would be able to satisfy the munchies later that night. That bag (And this ain't no shit Sherlock) as he pulled down the visor, fell right on top of that joint. Shit ass luck as they say. He then looked down suddenly and could only see that bag of M&Ms. He continued his search and found nothing that he was looking for. Good thing he didn't have the munchies. He still made me move my car. That asshole! Then I went back in to the Hunt Club and got wasted on Jose' Cuervo Gold drivers and smoked the rest of the Gold Columbian out back. I guess it was a golden night for me.
Stay tuned for more Brewster stories. Drink up my friends Wizzzmo