"Not You"

It was a tradition of sorts for the youth of the Piqua Ward to go to Friendly's after a stake dance for ice cream. Not just any ice cream, of course, but for candy shoppe sundaes of the most delicious variety. My favorite being the Reese's Pieces. (And yes, we pronounced it Ree-sees Pee-cees.)

I drove the car shown above in high school. Really, Bessie deserves her own post, but that will have to come later. Amy and I were driving in said car, Bessie, and sitting at a stoplight on the I-75 overpass. We were listening to music, and reliving the (not-so-)exciting things that had happened at the dance. Happily sated with our ice cream - Amy probably not quite full with her five-scoop - when a car of boys pulled up beside us.

"Hey!" They yelled.

We ignored them.

"Hey, beautiful," they said again, trying to get Amy's attention. More whistles, more cat calls. Amy stared straight ahead.

Finally I turned to look at them.

"Not you," the driver said with a tone of juvenile disgust.

"I know," I said, returning the irritation in my voice.

And then the light turned green and they sped off. I ignored the flush that crept to my cheeks. And the sorry look on Amy's face, that I mistook for pity.

"Idiots," she said.

"Yeah," I agreed, keeping my eyes straight ahead.

We returned home. I am sure it was after curfew. (Amy and I were never very good at keeping curfew.) Told our parents good night and started getting ready for bed.

I do miss that car, though.