Go Get the Drew Twins! (part two)

May 11, 2011 at 5:00 pm · Filed under Mostly true, Stories ·Tagged Austin Healey Sprite, author, Barry, basketball, Be Still.... and know that I am God, Charles L. Mashburn, Don and John, Don and John Drew, family, fear, funny, good old days, horror, humor, irrigating yards, laughter, old man, Pennies From Heaven, story, teenage misadventures, the Drew twins, writer

The clock ticking and my panic meter pegging, I shouted. “Go get the Drew twins!” Barry scowled at me and said, “Why don’t you go get them?” I said, “You want to be sitting here when my old man gets home?” His eyes got real big, and without another word he took off, running toward the Drew twins’ house at the end of the street. (If  you haven’t read part one of this story you need to click on this link –> Go Get The Drew Twins and read it before you go any further.)

The Drew twins—Don and John—lived at the end of my street. They were our age, but unlike me and Barry, who each weighed about 125 apiece at the time, they were huge. I’m guessing they both went about 200 pounds in high school. So, away Barry went, and in a matter of minutes (it seemed like days to me) he came jogging back, the Drew boys trotting along behind him.

Don: “What are you doing in there?”

Me: “Had to get the basketball.”

Don: “Oh.”

Nearly frantic at this point, looking down the street every few seconds, knowing my dad’s El Camino could round the corner at any time, I said, “Push me out!”

Don and John, with no further ado, hustled around to the back, and—this is the part that amazes me when I recall the incident—they lifted the back end of the car and shoved it out of the yard.

“Holy crap!” I screeched. Then to Barry, “Get in! Let’s get out of here!”

Barry jumped over the door and into the passenger’s seat, and I high-tailed it out of there. I looked over my shoulder at the Drew twins standing ankle-deep in the yard, waved and hollered, “Thanks, guys!”

The Drew boys gave me a feeble wave as they watched us speed away.

Barry looked at me as we sped down the street and said, “Did you see that? They lifted your car!”

I gave him a wild-eyed glance and said, “Holy crap!”

When I came home a few hours later—it was still daylight—the irrigation water had soaked in and the yard, though visibly still damp, was no longer flooded. I went into the house, where the old man was waiting for me; he didn’t have to say a word for me to know I was in deep trouble. Putting his hand “lovingly” on my shoulder, he guided me toward the back door.

“Come here son,” he said in a tone somewhere between soothing and sinister. “I want to show you something.”

As we stood staring at the back yard, my eyes followed the deep, muddy tracks that swirled and crisscrossed the yard. I figured death was upon me, and nearly fainted when the old man squeezed my shoulder and asked, “What were you thinking?” (I heard that a lot back then)

I shrugged and said—it sounded more like a question than an answer—“I had to get the basketball?”

He said, also in a questioning manner, “Oh?”

Obviously, I lived to tell the tale.

Permalink