...and speaking of focusing, this is a focus-shifted pair of an entire row of those flowers.
Don't know how it started, but a thing called "purse pulling" went around in the 70's. A friend named Doug McHugh and I thought it was a great idea, so we rummaged around in Mom's closet for a purse to carry out this harmless prank.
Now this is not stealing a purse (though we did from Mom's closet). This is literally pulling a purse with a string. The idea is to place the purse in the middle of a street with a string tied to the handle. When someone stops their car to pick up the purse, you yank it hard and make it disappear, getting a good laugh at the bewilderment of your victim. At least to our 14-year-old minds that's how it was supposed to work out.
First we needed the setup. We had the right kind of purse - one with a handle that sticks straight up so that someone could see what it is from a distance as they approach in their car...check. This had to be done at night so that we could hide...check (it was 9:30p). This had to be done on a less-traveled side street...check (we were in a quiet neighborhood). The string couldn't be clearly visible, so we got a 20lb fishing line from the tackle box...check. There was a nearby apartment complex that had a wooden fence in a dark area that we could use as a hideout from which to yank the string...check. Seems that everything was set to go so off we went, walking the two blocks from our house to the Linkwood Apartments carrying Mom's big red purse.
After arriving we put the purse in the middle of the street, threading the fishing line through a knothole in the fence about three feet above the ground, and anxiously waited for our first victim. A couple of minutes later a car pulls up, slowing as it approached the bait. We expected him to get out of the car and walk up to the purse to grab it, but that's not what happened. Instead, since the purse was exactly in the middle of the street, all he had to do was drive a few feet ahead of it, open the door and grab it. We gleefully yanked on the fishing line at the right time, which zinged it right under the car into the ditch beside the road. Success! Gosh that was fun...let's do it again!
It worked that way two more times, with the purse either disappearing under the victim's car or sailing across the road into the ditch if he was traveling the other direction.
Then our fourth victim approached. Emboldened by our success so far, we eagerly peered through the knothole and yanked as usual. But this guy apparently was not in the mood to participate. He squealed off, peeling in behind the apartment building looking for whoever this was playing tricks on folks that were just minding their own business. Now we knew there was trouble because it looked like he'd figured out where we were hiding! We both jumped down a low retaining wall that was right next to us and laid flat, hearts pounding and adrenaline pumping, praying that this aggravated individual wouldn't get out and stomp the life out of us. It was very dark back there, so he didn't chance going into the area and peeled loudly away. This fellow was MAD. We had to get out of there.
Hightailing at that moment may have been lovely but was not the best option, because the next thing we knew a POLICE CAR pulled in just in time to see our shadowy figures running away. The searchlight came on and swept the area. I knew the neighborhood, so frantically told my friend to follow me. I had to lead him through the backyards of houses adjacent to the apartment property, but knew that in one of them the owners kept two geese that would make noise. So we passed that yard, jumped the fence into the next back yard, and scrammed. After a couple more yards I looked back and realized I'd lost Doug, but in the manner of thieves and crooks I didn't care; he was on his own.
As I said earlier, our house was only two blocks from the apartment complex, but we had to run through more yards and cross two streets to get there. And there were people in the vicinity that did not want to make that easy for us. Just as I'd made my way past a house into the front yard to cross the first street, the police car, seeing which way we had escaped, screeched into that very street, slowing way down to search for us. I was oddly calm as he got closer, shining the beam of his searchlight at the shrubbery and underneath the cars parked in the driveways. Since I was crouched behind one of those cars I had to do something, but what? I was moments from being discovered and hauled away.
It was simple. This was the days when cars had big metal bumpers that stuck out a bit, so I grabbed onto the grill with both hands and hoisted myself up to lay down on it. There I remained, laying prone on this bumper, as I watched the beam of light shine brightly underneath with no feet down there to betray my presence. This was about midway down the street, so I stayed put until the cop turned at the end of the street to search elsewhere. My hands were aching by the time I was able to let go and plop back down onto the driveway. Then it was just a matter of keeping low until reaching the next block to get home. Doug was already there somehow, patiently waiting for either my arrival or the news that I'd been hauled away in a paddy wagon.
I've heard many times the saying, "Were it but for the grace of God..." This definitely was one of those occasions when, if not for the Grace of God, there could have been a very different ending. But I'm thankful for all of my experiences, and frankly a little proud of the way I got out of this one...
P.S. - two months later they installed a street light just behind the fence where our hideout was, which is there to this day (seen below, top photo).
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