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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: History / Historical
- Published: 01/04/2023
Moonlight Ranch
Born 1944, M, from Santa Clara California, United StatesThe 1960 Winter Olympics were held in Squaw Valley, California near Lake Tahoe. Squaw Valley of course has been renamed as part of the great woke awakening.
Way back then, I was age 16, a high school l sophomore, and lived in the little agricultural town of Santa Clara. I skipped the Winter Olympics, mostly due to expense but also lack of interest. After all, we had Summer Olympics gold medal winners in our Santa Clara High School due to the famous coach George Haines the swim coach.
I t did, however, increase my interest in exploring California as I’d never been to Lake Tahoe, let alone Squaw Valley. Additional interest included the geography. Lake Tahoe is in the Sierra Nevada Mountains with its steep inclines and panoramic vista but more importantly its straddling the California and Nevada border, with Nevada’s laws significantly different.
Turning 16, I immediately got my driver’s license, bought a 53 Chevy convertible with fruit picking, lawn cutting and paperboy earnings. With my license and car, I was free. Leaving the house, turning the corner, no one knew where I was going, where I was, and were I went when I returned home.
I had friends of similar bent. As mature, 17-year-old juniors, the next winter, 4 of us, decided to visit the mysterious Olympics site and Lake Tahoe. We took Mike’s car. He’d bought a 1957 Studebaker and had dropped a corvette engine in it to document his male superiority cruising First Street American Graffiti style, in downtown San Jose. He was also the only one with chains in case we got snow
,
It may be hard to believe but there were no drugs back then in High School or even college. Drugs were something vague that big cities like New York experienced in movies. Marijuana was in the same group as heroin and cocaine. Meth and LSD weren’t even words. There were 2 drugs common back then, nicotine and ethel alcohol, but they weren’t considered drugs. We didn’t smoke yet, but drinking was big. We’d already finished a case of Gallo Ripple wine, night fishing on a rock ocean jetty and no longer could stand the taste of wine.
We’d move from wine to beer and hard liquor, vodka, rum, and whisky. Beer was out due to it being winter. Storage in the car was also a factor with 4 squeezed into the Studebaker, a car of limited interior.
We decided on whisk but need to obtain what was limited to those 21 and over. First, stopped at New Durgan’s Bar in Santa Clara’s little downtown, all demolished now, and waited for a customer to come out.
When an appropriate buyer staggered out, we gave him $10 to go back for 2 fifths of cheap whisky.
As he returned, he handed the bag to the guy in the front seat and stumbled to get in the back seat. I, realized we no longer needed him and pushed the lock button down and the driver sped off.
I don’t know how long he held into the door handle, but it was an Olympic record of sorts. I assuaged my betrayal guilt by recollecting I’d let him keep the change.
Secure with our supplies we drive to Lake Tahoe but after 6 hours we were confronted with where to stay.
In our exploration we’d discovered the Olympic skating rink with eaves that sloped down allowing a car to park beneath, out of the snow. Being plebeians, we parked there for the night with the whisky and car heater turned on occasionally to keep us warm.
We downed the first bottle and decided to keep the other in reserve for the next night.
Then the red lights showed up. It was the California Highway Patrol or CHPS as they we’re called.
He flash lit our faces , checked our id’s, and asked what we were doing under the skating lodge eve. With a few omissions we told the truth.
He then asked,
“Okay where’s the liquor, boys?”
Of course, we denied possession.
He explained,
“Well, you boys can possibly spend the night under this eve or in jail, which do you prefer?”
We fessed up.
He poured our remaining whisky on the snow and explained our situation.
“If see your car on the road before sunrise, you’ll get to view the sunrises from jail until your parents come to bail you out. By the way, don’t let the car run to heat it up. You may die from carbon monoxide. I see it every year.”
It was a long night of shivering, but we saw the sunrise from under the eve.
The next day we drove to our real destination, Moonlight Ranch in Nevada, and lost our virginity.
Moonlight Ranch(james brown)
The 1960 Winter Olympics were held in Squaw Valley, California near Lake Tahoe. Squaw Valley of course has been renamed as part of the great woke awakening.
Way back then, I was age 16, a high school l sophomore, and lived in the little agricultural town of Santa Clara. I skipped the Winter Olympics, mostly due to expense but also lack of interest. After all, we had Summer Olympics gold medal winners in our Santa Clara High School due to the famous coach George Haines the swim coach.
I t did, however, increase my interest in exploring California as I’d never been to Lake Tahoe, let alone Squaw Valley. Additional interest included the geography. Lake Tahoe is in the Sierra Nevada Mountains with its steep inclines and panoramic vista but more importantly its straddling the California and Nevada border, with Nevada’s laws significantly different.
Turning 16, I immediately got my driver’s license, bought a 53 Chevy convertible with fruit picking, lawn cutting and paperboy earnings. With my license and car, I was free. Leaving the house, turning the corner, no one knew where I was going, where I was, and were I went when I returned home.
I had friends of similar bent. As mature, 17-year-old juniors, the next winter, 4 of us, decided to visit the mysterious Olympics site and Lake Tahoe. We took Mike’s car. He’d bought a 1957 Studebaker and had dropped a corvette engine in it to document his male superiority cruising First Street American Graffiti style, in downtown San Jose. He was also the only one with chains in case we got snow
,
It may be hard to believe but there were no drugs back then in High School or even college. Drugs were something vague that big cities like New York experienced in movies. Marijuana was in the same group as heroin and cocaine. Meth and LSD weren’t even words. There were 2 drugs common back then, nicotine and ethel alcohol, but they weren’t considered drugs. We didn’t smoke yet, but drinking was big. We’d already finished a case of Gallo Ripple wine, night fishing on a rock ocean jetty and no longer could stand the taste of wine.
We’d move from wine to beer and hard liquor, vodka, rum, and whisky. Beer was out due to it being winter. Storage in the car was also a factor with 4 squeezed into the Studebaker, a car of limited interior.
We decided on whisk but need to obtain what was limited to those 21 and over. First, stopped at New Durgan’s Bar in Santa Clara’s little downtown, all demolished now, and waited for a customer to come out.
When an appropriate buyer staggered out, we gave him $10 to go back for 2 fifths of cheap whisky.
As he returned, he handed the bag to the guy in the front seat and stumbled to get in the back seat. I, realized we no longer needed him and pushed the lock button down and the driver sped off.
I don’t know how long he held into the door handle, but it was an Olympic record of sorts. I assuaged my betrayal guilt by recollecting I’d let him keep the change.
Secure with our supplies we drive to Lake Tahoe but after 6 hours we were confronted with where to stay.
In our exploration we’d discovered the Olympic skating rink with eaves that sloped down allowing a car to park beneath, out of the snow. Being plebeians, we parked there for the night with the whisky and car heater turned on occasionally to keep us warm.
We downed the first bottle and decided to keep the other in reserve for the next night.
Then the red lights showed up. It was the California Highway Patrol or CHPS as they we’re called.
He flash lit our faces , checked our id’s, and asked what we were doing under the skating lodge eve. With a few omissions we told the truth.
He then asked,
“Okay where’s the liquor, boys?”
Of course, we denied possession.
He explained,
“Well, you boys can possibly spend the night under this eve or in jail, which do you prefer?”
We fessed up.
He poured our remaining whisky on the snow and explained our situation.
“If see your car on the road before sunrise, you’ll get to view the sunrises from jail until your parents come to bail you out. By the way, don’t let the car run to heat it up. You may die from carbon monoxide. I see it every year.”
It was a long night of shivering, but we saw the sunrise from under the eve.
The next day we drove to our real destination, Moonlight Ranch in Nevada, and lost our virginity.
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Aleena Nawaz
01/09/2023Congratulations James Brown on being selected as short story star of the day.
Well done!
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Kevin Hughes
01/09/2023Hey James,
Don't worry about the typos, we all do it...most of us are not professional writers ! The story was marvelous...and what a differnce in Police tactics between those days and nowadays. I am in my seventies, but five of my older brothers would both know the cars and the booze you mentiond. LOL
Congrats for a fun read. Smiles, Kevin
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Shirley Smothers
01/09/2023Enjoyed your story. Brought back memories. I grew up in the 70s. Thank you for sharing.
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Shirley Smothers
01/09/2023James don't be too hard on yourself. I make tons of mistakes. I really enjoyed your story.
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James brown
01/09/2023I’m pleased you enjoyed the story but sad I failed to edit before posting. Way too many typos.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
01/04/2023What a fun coming-of-age story! Funny how smart we think we are in our youth. That CHP saved our lives that night., no doubt the universe knew you guys needed some intervening. Lol!
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Lillian Kazmierczak
01/08/2023This was such a fun read! Congratulations on short story star of the day!
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James brown
01/04/2023Thanks heaps, glad you got a lift of tale from yore. Now I see all of the typos, sorry.
COMMENTS (4)