The late 80’s early 90’s were a fun time, but man where did they go? My first car was a 79 Ford Fairmont, that my friends and I affectionately called “The Mont” and it was ghetto. Two hundred thousand some odd miles of light blue rust spotted junk. Its dashboard was covered in skateboard stickers, and one of its doors was a completely different color than the other three. It may not have been aesthetically pleasing, but it got us where we wanted to go and that was good enough for me. Rap and Metal was the music of choice when I was in high school and the radio in my car was terrible, or should I say treble. It had no bass, at all. The rear dash was full of worn-out speakers from an old nineteen seventies home stereo system. They were cut with care from their boxes, then wired into the back of The Mont. But what would you expect in such a worn-out, busted car? To make matters worse, the ignition switch would have to be held just right so the radio would even have power. I hope I’m painting a well enough picture for you to realize this car was Hood-Rich.
Although my friends and I weren’t living in luxury, this didn’t mean we didn’t try to sound like we had a halfway decent radio. Girls were everything back then and impressing them was the name of the game. So everyday on the way to school we would see a cheerleader named Candace walking to first period. She was stunning and we always tried to get her attention by looking cool or at least what we thought was sounding cool. As we pulled up slowly beside her, my friends would start to stomp their feet on the floorboard when what little bass would thump in the car’s speakers. This we thought was giving the false impression that my car was booming. The problem was, we had no rhythm. So, as hard as we were trying to be cool, we probably sounded like a herd of Buffalo drowning out Metallica or NWA, and looked like four guys getting attacked by bees on their way to school. I could only imagine what Candace was thinking. What the hell is wrong with those guys? They really need help. Oh God, I hope they don’t ask me for a ride in that thing. Luckily for her we never asked and somehow we made it through the awkward years of trying to be something we were not. But hey, we had fun doing it, and that’s what counts.