Coming and Going Via My Bedroom Window
By the time I was in high school and college, I didn’t think my weekend activities were any of my folks’ business. I was far away from home on many nights, and as far as I know, my parents never had a clue. My “Green Smoker” 1954 Chevy Bel Aire was the means. As for getting back in the house without detection, my bedroom window was ideal, much better than the front door which was next to my folks’ bedroom door.
Oddly enough, when I was in college (a local college), I learnt that my favorite professor did all his thinking while driving dark roads at night. I was already doing that when I met him. As I’ve probably said here before, I knew all the diner waitresses by name in a hundred-mile radius of my house. In those days, the Dobbs House (popular in the 1960s) was a great place for a 3:00 a.m. burger.
I found driving at night to be great therapy in part against the sturm und drang of high school and college English departments that I thoroughly detested for treating students as third-world folks who didn’t grow up speaking English. I had no tolerance for their methods and could always use a glass of Mateus, a dry red wine from Portugal that young people drank like water in those days. I graduated to Pinot Noir and Red Zinfandel as I grew older.
The odd thing about coming and going via my bedroom window came from finding out that my younger brother was also coming and going via his bedroom window. We never spoke up about it. Just nodded at each other and returned to the reality of our daily lives which included keeping our parents out of the loop.
Did they (the parents) ever know? Beats me.
