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Alameda High School - Class of '63 Home
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Bushwhacking. I think that at one time or another, nearly every High School boy was exposed to the Saturday night sporting event we called Bushwhacking - either as the bushwacker or the bushwackee. My first experience came at the hand of my older brother. “The thing is simple,” my brother told me as we drove up Alameda to the Hogback. I was sitting by myself in the back seat while Gary, Clayton Blanton and Vic Schrader rode up front. “There are always a couple of guys from Bear Creek up there in the turn out, making out with their girl friend. We’ll park on the backside of the hill. You follow the fence over the top and take along a flashlight and a cherry bomb. Sneak up real quiet on the car. When you think that they’re locked in some really intimate position, you light the cherry bomb and toss it under the car. As soon as it goes off, shine the light into the car, get a really good view, shine the light into their eyes and then run like hell over the side of the hill to the highway. “ “We’ll be waiting along the highway to pick you up.” Hmmmm. Iffy – but I guess if this is the right of passage then what the heck…. Columbus took a chance. So I worked up my courage, got out of the car and walked over the hill. On my tiptoes I crept up to a Chevy that was parked there all alone. From a brief but safe distance I stared at it through the moonlight until it appeared that both heads had disappeared. With stealth and secrecy I slithered up to the side of the car, lit the cherry bomb and slid it underneath. In just seconds, it exploded with sound and fury. I screamed at the top of my lungs and jumped up to get a glimpse of the real thing up close and personal. I flipped the switch on the flashlight and…. Vic had removed the batteries. I found myself staring through the moonlight into the face of the maddest human being alive. He was bigger than me. He was older than me. And, he was wearing a Lakewood Letter Jacket. I launched myself into what I presume to be the fastest 880-yard dash in human history. Off the side of the hill I went. Through weeds and grass, over barbed wire and irrigation ditch I ran - with a gorilla on my tail that was at least the size of Moby Dick, as mean as Godzilla - and who was definitely gaining on me. I was really enjoying the sprint until as I neared the highway, I realized that the only car within two miles of my present location was the same old Chevy that had just been lifted off it’s perch by a semi-nuclear explosion. The rest of the boys were on top of the hill watching me and cheering like it was the Super Bowl. It seemed like forever, but looking over my shoulder as I raced down the hill I saw that my brother and company had finally headed my direction. I managed to stay ahead of the angry monster just long enough for the gleeful trio to drive by at 40 miles per hour. No need to stop to open a door, I jumped through the back seat window without them even having to slow down. The monster only got my shirt and I escaped – this time.
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