the party wagon
by Michele Christopher
Kali steps outside of her regular column to write reminisce about a station wagon
in 1988 i was 16 years old and i was the only one with a car. well, okay, it was my mom's car. (my dad had bought me a 1983 firebird as a present, but i'd wrecked it before i was legal -- a story for another time, perhaps)
and in 1988 all the cool shows were in DC. and mostly at the 930 club (now known as "the old 930 club") so i'd pile 8 or ten skins in the country squire - complete with fake wood paneling - and cruise on down route 50. those (mostly) boys fucked so hard with other people on the road. the best part were the two retractable inward facing benchseats in the far back. well, ok, and the monster V8. we'd blur past a family in a 4 door sedan with arms and extended fingers flailing out the tailgate window.
i'm sure we looked like a clockwork orange clown car when we pulled up at 930 f street and skinheads started piling out onto the sidewalk.
i had my first acid trip in that wagon. some hippy at a house party gave me a sugarcube and told me to eat it. when everyone started looking like mice i decided it was time to go and was deemed so "fucked up" that skinhead pat was handed the keys to my mom's car.
the last lucid thing i remember about that night was hearing the words "don't spill the chocolate sauce or my mom will know i pulled the wool over her eyes" coming out of my mouth.
i'm still not sure whether pat really did a 360 at that stop light or not.....
Got any "party car" memories to share with us?
Kali still thinks you look like a mouse.