I went to a high school in Redlands, CA, for my junior and senior years. It was an entirely new school to me. No one there knew of my ferris wheel debacle.
Redlands is known for having lots of orange groves. There aren't as many as there were a few years ago, but there are still hundreds of acres of orange trees. My high school was located about half of a mile away from a large, main road, and adjacent to an orange grove.
During my junior year, I only had to take 3 classes before lunch, and two after, which meant I got out of school at 1:30. I didn't have a driver's license or car yet, and lived too far away to walk, so I would either try to bum a ride home, or hand around at the burger place nearby and wait for everyone else to get out of school so I could be picked up.
On this particular day, my friend Tim (who has gotten me into more trouble than anyone else on the planet, and had the same schedule) and I decided we were going to the burger place. We headed off to the orange groves, because it is faster to go through them than around them. On our way there, we ran into some of our buddies, Meyhran (my-ran) and Jordan. All four of us set off in search of greasy burgers and soggy french fries.
On our way through the oange groves, Jordan gets the bright idea of throwing rotten, soggy oranges at each other. We start a juicy orange fight, until we all decide it's not in the group's best interest fight and be covered in nasty, rotten orange juice. We did decide, however, that it would be a good idea to throw them at cars driving by on the road.
We found a good spot where we could see cars approaching through the trees, but they couldn't see us. We couldn't clearly tell what kind of vehichle was approaching. All we could see wa the glare of the sun reflecting off of the windshield. One person would yell "CAR!", then the the other three would time their throws to land on the car as it sped past. It was quite fun, even though we weren't very good at it. We had a very poor hit to throw ratio, maybe getting one good hit per 5 or 6 throws. We especially liked hitting empty trailers being hauled by the large diesel trucks, because they made a loud, hollow, booming sound, and were easy to hit.
We did this for about 20 minutes, laughing and having a good time. There were no cars for a minute, so we sat and waited. "CAR!" We all got up... waited... throw! Three directs hits right onto the windshield... of a San Bernardino County Sherriff's Department patrol car. He screeched to a hault, then hit his sirens and lights. We froze in terror. Meyhran yelled. "RUN!"
If you've ever been in a group in a sticky situation, you'll understand why we all ran. Panic sets in, and instead of thinking, you follow the group. We all ran. Jordan was the fastest, so he was far up ahead, followed by Meyhran. I was closest to the street, so I started off farthest back. I run faster than Tim, though, so I quickly overcame him. We could hear the sherriff chasing. He kept yelling and running after us, deeper into the orange grove.
We approached a chain link fence, about 10 feet tall. Normally, chain link fences are supported by metal rods driven into the ground. This fence, however, seemed to have half the supports missing, and thus was quite wobbly and unsafe. The top was pointed and sharp. I see the fence and make a leap onto it. I begin to climp over it. Tim didn't see the fence, or though he could run right through it, or was just being stupid, but whatever the reason, he ran right into it, and me. The fence tumbled over me, and Tim tumbled over the fence. "Get off!" I yelled. I could see the sherriff aproaching. Tim scrambled off, and attempted to help me up (my group of friends are quite loyal to each other). I tried to stand up, but couldn't quite get up all the way. I was stuck on something! We looked down to find my right pant leg all twisted and ripped and caught on the old fence. I tried to get it free, but couldn't. The sherriff was coming closer and closer.
"Ditch the pants!" I quickly unbuttoned my loose pants and crawled out of them. I lost a shoe in the process. I stood up, grabbed my shoe, and ran off again. We ran for another half a minute or so. We looked back to see the sherriff huffing and puffing. We laughed and taunted, then left.
We regrouped on the far end of the orange grove. Where should we go? I had no pants. It was almost time for me to be picked up from the burger joint, so we headed off to the restaraunt. Imagine the faces of the patrons when four guys walk in, sweaty, tired, covered in orange juice and leaves, one of them not wearing any pants and only one shoe. We act nonchalant, go to the counter, place our orders, then sit down.
My ride came. I had a hard time explaining to my father why I was not wearing any pants. my brother said he saw the four of us going into the woods together, and now I had no pants. He concluded that we must have been doing something nasty. I didn't argue. We drove the rest of the home in silence, my father shaking his head and sighing mournfully.
Redlands is known for having lots of orange groves. There aren't as many as there were a few years ago, but there are still hundreds of acres of orange trees. My high school was located about half of a mile away from a large, main road, and adjacent to an orange grove.
During my junior year, I only had to take 3 classes before lunch, and two after, which meant I got out of school at 1:30. I didn't have a driver's license or car yet, and lived too far away to walk, so I would either try to bum a ride home, or hand around at the burger place nearby and wait for everyone else to get out of school so I could be picked up.
On this particular day, my friend Tim (who has gotten me into more trouble than anyone else on the planet, and had the same schedule) and I decided we were going to the burger place. We headed off to the orange groves, because it is faster to go through them than around them. On our way there, we ran into some of our buddies, Meyhran (my-ran) and Jordan. All four of us set off in search of greasy burgers and soggy french fries.
On our way through the oange groves, Jordan gets the bright idea of throwing rotten, soggy oranges at each other. We start a juicy orange fight, until we all decide it's not in the group's best interest fight and be covered in nasty, rotten orange juice. We did decide, however, that it would be a good idea to throw them at cars driving by on the road.
We found a good spot where we could see cars approaching through the trees, but they couldn't see us. We couldn't clearly tell what kind of vehichle was approaching. All we could see wa the glare of the sun reflecting off of the windshield. One person would yell "CAR!", then the the other three would time their throws to land on the car as it sped past. It was quite fun, even though we weren't very good at it. We had a very poor hit to throw ratio, maybe getting one good hit per 5 or 6 throws. We especially liked hitting empty trailers being hauled by the large diesel trucks, because they made a loud, hollow, booming sound, and were easy to hit.
We did this for about 20 minutes, laughing and having a good time. There were no cars for a minute, so we sat and waited. "CAR!" We all got up... waited... throw! Three directs hits right onto the windshield... of a San Bernardino County Sherriff's Department patrol car. He screeched to a hault, then hit his sirens and lights. We froze in terror. Meyhran yelled. "RUN!"
If you've ever been in a group in a sticky situation, you'll understand why we all ran. Panic sets in, and instead of thinking, you follow the group. We all ran. Jordan was the fastest, so he was far up ahead, followed by Meyhran. I was closest to the street, so I started off farthest back. I run faster than Tim, though, so I quickly overcame him. We could hear the sherriff chasing. He kept yelling and running after us, deeper into the orange grove.
We approached a chain link fence, about 10 feet tall. Normally, chain link fences are supported by metal rods driven into the ground. This fence, however, seemed to have half the supports missing, and thus was quite wobbly and unsafe. The top was pointed and sharp. I see the fence and make a leap onto it. I begin to climp over it. Tim didn't see the fence, or though he could run right through it, or was just being stupid, but whatever the reason, he ran right into it, and me. The fence tumbled over me, and Tim tumbled over the fence. "Get off!" I yelled. I could see the sherriff aproaching. Tim scrambled off, and attempted to help me up (my group of friends are quite loyal to each other). I tried to stand up, but couldn't quite get up all the way. I was stuck on something! We looked down to find my right pant leg all twisted and ripped and caught on the old fence. I tried to get it free, but couldn't. The sherriff was coming closer and closer.
"Ditch the pants!" I quickly unbuttoned my loose pants and crawled out of them. I lost a shoe in the process. I stood up, grabbed my shoe, and ran off again. We ran for another half a minute or so. We looked back to see the sherriff huffing and puffing. We laughed and taunted, then left.
We regrouped on the far end of the orange grove. Where should we go? I had no pants. It was almost time for me to be picked up from the burger joint, so we headed off to the restaraunt. Imagine the faces of the patrons when four guys walk in, sweaty, tired, covered in orange juice and leaves, one of them not wearing any pants and only one shoe. We act nonchalant, go to the counter, place our orders, then sit down.
My ride came. I had a hard time explaining to my father why I was not wearing any pants. my brother said he saw the four of us going into the woods together, and now I had no pants. He concluded that we must have been doing something nasty. I didn't argue. We drove the rest of the home in silence, my father shaking his head and sighing mournfully.
