What age were you when you considered yourself “grown?” I was 16 and just got my driver’s license. I had, sometime back, fallen in love with cars. Especially those with a lot of horsepower under the hood. Dad had one of these “things.” But dad had little confidence in my ability to use one safely. So my ability to get my hands on his car was nil.

But I liked to drive and when allowed, I really enjoyed the feel of a car under my control. Thus it should be no surprise to anyone that knew me that when a boy I greatly admired asked me if I help him drive some new cars to New Mexico. Could I? Well, I guess I could. The guy in question, one “Lefty” Wilson of my class worked for a car dealer over in Pauls Valley. Lefty’s boss was a Ford-Studebaker dealer and he was affiliated with another “like” dealer in Los Alamos, New Mexico. The car business was good and the dealer needed some new cars out there in New Mexico and he wanted them right away.

I’ve often wondered about that guy. He had invented the idea of getting some “cheap” drivers to ferry the cars out there. The cars with their speedometers disconnected showed up in Los Alamos with near zero miles. Like I said, the car business was good, especially so out there in Los Alamos so getting stock switched from Pauls Valley to New Mexico was a lot cheaper if the cars were somehow ferried.

So it was, good old Lefty talked five or six of us into it. You can see it was easy. We were all 16. We liked to drive and what were these cars? All brand new Fords. Wow. We were in and Friday evening after school, we were off to Pauls Valley. The car I was to drive was a Ford V-8 sedan with overdrive. The car bespoke a lot of personality just sitting there.

The dealer, a guy named Harry gave us all a speech. We were not to pass Lefty. Lefty, he said, “I consider an adult.” Lefty’s car had a speedometer. We would not exceed 55- MPH, Harry went on to say. Lefty’s little 12 year brother, Simon had joined our group, somehow and to avoid any brotherly supervision, he said he was riding with me.

So our strange odyssey began. Six brand-new cars. All wearing false tags from Harry’s used car lot. Not one dealer tag. I had hardly left the city limits of Paul’s Valley and still marveling at the gee-whiz gadgets of this wonderful car when Simon said, “if you’re going to keep up, you’re going to have to give it the gas.” He was right. Soon I was going pretty fast and I was way behind. When we got to Maysville all the others were pulled over and waiting on me. Lefty was mad. “Aren’t you going to keep up?” I said I had tried to but I thought we were to keep under 55. I knew that driving the new care fast could damage the engine.

I knew we were in trouble when Lefty “peeled” out. A Maysville cop fell in behind me. He went on around me with lights flashing. I slowed it down and made plans to just give up on my driving to New Mexico with this bunch. But it was too late. Without going into all the details, we were all soon under arrest. The cops thought they had busted a big car theft ring.

Harry was called and took care of things and we finally went on our way. To Los Alamos. At 55-MPH. I finally got home and early Monday morning. My dad woke me up and asked about my trip. “Oh,” I said, “went off without a hitch.” He then laid The Daily Oklahoman on my bed. Front page headline said, “Fast Convoy of Six Captured.” There it was. Names and all. First and last time I ever had my name on the front page of The Oklahoman.

Me, my feet and my bike were forever united after that. Have a nice week and drive carefully. And go to church Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh

cwaynebullard@gmail.com