Team car tag while stoned:
Roaming the playing field (an entire suburb large) jamming to tunes, telling stupid stories, scanning the roads for opponents.
Mellowing some in a tree lined section with winding streets. Suddenly, another team charging us directly ahead! Our driver slams the selector in reverse. Lockout mechanism screaming, the car slows. We laugh at the prospect of a head on collision….
After a THC generated eternity the Datsun comes to a stop. Reverse furiously engages. Straight cut gears whine as the battered hatchback’s stern rears up.
Carrering through the night backwards up the winding roads. We howl with laughter as the ’it’ car nears. Brakes fading, steam from the radiator making shafts in our headlights.
The tach bounces off the rev limiter. Our hunters close, SLAM! They veer to our right and pass us, their taillights fade under the oak and moss canopy.
We creak to a stop, resting in a ditch. Our team convulses with laughter. Coolant stews on the manifold. The motor’s revs pulse. We shake it off and square ourselves for the next round…