A Glimpse of Recklessness at 16.

Utter freedom. Total bliss. Wavering glee.

Only glee wavered because I did not know what a fuller self really felt like. Only I knew how a blossoming ego felt. You could call it the beginning of a certain sprouting branch from a frailly rooted tree.

"So, I have a surprise for you."

"A new car?!"

"Well, not a new car but it is your car. Curfew will be set. Allowance will be set. Drive carefully."

"Wow...." ideas of wondrous elusion flooded my 16-year-old mind as I envisioned myself being in a box on wheels which appeared to define freedom. No mom. No having-t0-space-out-right-next-to-someone just for a moment of breathable space. No compromising,...well, except with the law. That I would see very shortly after.

Rolling in the driveway with what I thought as extreme poise and style in a little go-cartish Nissan Sentra LX, I was picking up my best friend whom I have known since 1st grade. The front seats sported very primally decorative seat covers. Very flesh-amusing they were especially in the cooler seasons for that they warmed the seats well. In between the seats on the ceiling of the car was a little tube of black light. Black light was a necessary visual supplement on that leg of my journey. Tupac, Madonna, Eazy E, Rage against the Machine, and probably more Tupac commonly accompanied my tape player. It was mid-90's. We didn't really have bargains for CD players then. They did cost way too much. Besides, cassettes were still all over. I did always like it a little bit old-school anyway.

"Ready to go?" I was good as overly ready to run around town and show my Star Trek-loving friend what the rawness of a 16-year-old mind could venture into reality.

"Sure..." she stood there pushing her eyeglasses back in place. It was almost as if she was not excited but I always could put her in gear. I think she liked the rides I went on myself...only for so much. Sometimes she would want in, sometimes she wanted to just tag along for the sights. "Hey, what's wrong?" turning my head towards the window so I would not blow my Newport Lights smoke in her face.

She tried not to peer at me with the building anxiety that was spurring inside of her. There was something bleeding in the wrong color. I like it only blood red not that I was at all fascinated with the sight of blood. Basically, when something is held back, the blood is good as neon yellow or slimy green. Funky. Bad funky. Degrees of funkiness, sure, but why give a tiny seed of bad funkiness a chance even if it is just something you can lightly blow under the rug.

"I'm just nervous..."

"Nervous about what?" I was trying to adjust the radio volume so I could better feel the bass with a gently fuming cigarette in the same hand.

"You amaze me..." she looked at me in the middle of her held breath.

"What, me?" a grin couldn't help but dance all over my face.

"You are driving,....you are also putting your lipstick on not to mention choosing your music in the middle of it all besides lighting a cigarette on the side...all at the same time."

"Yeah, that's called multi-tasking." I was a sweet cake with a pompous icing.

Only if I knew what certain nostalgia would look like then. I would have known better how to select lighting for my memory lane.

Always natural.

Never that ridiculous flash.