Rocking the Rock Island

I was thirteen years old and I was a bit of a handful. During lunch hour at Central Junior High School, I and two friends of mine thought it would be a wonderful idea to go hangout by the train tracks. Central was only a stone's throw away from the tracks and that was what we did. We threw stones at a passing train. It wasn't a passenger train, but a train hauling automobiles. Seriously, I was a horrible shot and didn't hit one of those automobiles. My buddies were better at it than I was, but I did manage to bounce a couple of rocks off some boxcars. As the last car passed and the caboose slid by along with a cloud of dust, we saw the cop car. He was sitting on the other side of the tracks with his red roof light flashing, around and around. By the time the cop car managed to swing around the gates on Oak Park Avenue and come roaring up behind us, we had made it to the other side of the tracks. It didn't matter. He got us as we tried to run into the school.

Tinley Park was a small town at that time, maybe fifteen thousand population. We were hauled back to the small police station and our parents were called. The cops told us that our punishment would be that we would have to show up on Saturday and wash all the fire trucks. That didn't bother me, it was my mom that I was worried about. If you knew my mom you would understand. She was tough and could scare the shit out of you. As I sat there imagining the most horrible of fates, I saw her come in the front door of the police station. There was some conversation at the front desk with the arresting cop, and Mom shot me a couple of looks. I was in for it, my fate was sealed. Mom would tell Dad, and I would get the crap slapped out of me. Then I heard my mom's voice, she was pissed. Not at me, but at the cop. Mom yelled at that cop, accusing him of wasting the town's time, her time, and my time. She might have even threw in a curse word or two. She then gathered her loving son up and delivered him back to school. It seriously felt great to hear my mom stick up for me, even though I knew I was wrong. Oh, and on Saturday morning she made sure I got up bright and early so as not to be late. Those fire trucks weren't going to wash themselves.