Pickup Trucks and Roman Candles

In today's study of the mental processes of young males, I would like to share a Fourth of July story about pickup trucks and Roman candles. When I was seventeen, a couple of pickups filled with teenage boys were heading out to the lake to join other teenagers to shoot fireworks. However, rather than wait until we reached the lake to shoot our fireworks, those of us in the backs of the two pickup trucks began lighting Roman candles and firing them at our friends in the other pickup. I distinctly remember standing up in the back of the second pickup holding onto the top of the cab so that I could see the little fireballs that were shooting towards us.

No one was shot or injured during the pickup truck exchange of fire. However, once we reached our destination by the lake and were able to shoot fireworks from stable ground, a kid we did not know shot one of my buddies, who I will call Billy Bob, in the noggin with a fiery red ball. Ol' Billy Bob's hairdo was altered by this shot, for now he had a silver dollar size bald spot on the side of his melon. There was a heated exchange of rhetoric at that point, though the exchange ended in a harmonious understanding of the evening's purpose, and a peaceful teenage fireworks extravaganza ensued.

Today, from the hoary perch of adulthood, I now understand why municipalities ban fireworks within their boundaries and why one must often head to a firework friendly county to purchase lady fingers, Black Cats, and the like. Well, friends and neighbors, at this point I would like to wish y'all a safe and happy Fourth of July, and please be sure to heed the sagacious words of Evel Knievel, "Don't try this at home."


Here is "Roman Candles," a song off one of my favorite albums from my childhood.