One not-overly-sunny afternoon Barb and I drove out and met up with Barb's cousin Jenny, who had driven separately. We all slathered on the suntan lotion, mixed up some drinks, and hung out on lounge chairs close to the water. I don't recall Barb being much of a drinker at that time, but I was a big alkie in those days, and apparently Jenny was a bit of a lush as well, so we proceeded to intoxicate ourselves to the fullest as we soaked up whatever bit of sun graced our presence.

Now this was awhile ago, by the time I tell it, so you'll have to pardon me if I don't have all the events in the correct order, but I've got all the details.

There was nobody on the beach but us that day, and as we got drunker, we got bolder, as most drunkards do. We decided to tan topless, since there was no one around, to avoid tan lines. This somehow progressed to tanning totally naked.

One of us noticed a background noise a ways into this, and we all turned around to discover some dude strolling the beach behind us. As we shrieked and grabbed our towels, he called out, "Don't get dressed on my account!" or something to the effect. Which we did anyway. It turned out a group from the local boys' training school was up the hill picking up trash, and apparently we were giving them quite an eyeful.

At some point, the alcohol ran low, so Jenny offered to make a liquor run. She seemed to take forever, and finally after what seemed like hours, came stumbling back down the hill towards the beach. I can't even remember if she had the alcohol or not.

She had run her car into a ditch somewhere between the nearest town and the beach, couldn't get it started again, and hitched a ride back with some truck driver. She told us she was just going to abandon the car because her grandma had given it to her for free and it was an old piece of junk anyway!

Barb and I went back later and totally cleaned it out, splitting up all of the stuff she'd left inside between us, including a set of real handcuffs and ankle shackles (I still have those handcuffs!), clothes, and a couple of other odd items. Somewhere I have pictures of me on another beach - Jones Beach in NYC, to be exact - wearing the U.S. BOYS shirt I inherited out of that incident.

Whatever became of that car, I'll probably never know. What became of Jenny is too scary to repeat.