We were in the Band at the High School, Bartlesville College High, 48 years ago. We wore black and gold uniforms, we sat on the student side of Custer Field, cold, rain, heat, it didn't matter. Frank Robinson was our director and he was always there.
Band Homecoming was coming up, and we chosen a band Queen, rounded up convertible cars from local dealers to haul the Queen and her escorts into the stadium at the north, proceed down the visitor side, around the south goal post, come back up to the fifty yard line, stop, let the girl and the escort out of the car to be walked along the middle of the field and be introduced to the crowd. This gave the home crowd and the student crowd the time to look at each beautiful girl and beautiful car, and clap and applaud their entrance.
I was picked as one of the four to get a car and drive the girl in. My mind is getting more fragile with time and I don't remember who else participated to pick the rest of the girls. A little bit of work and I found the car, a 1972 Camaro, glitter blue, convertible, with big fat tires all around. I washed it and waxed it up pretty, arrived by the tennis courts and picked up Steve Forest (The Escort) and Vicki Staton (The Attendant) and got them loaded. The queens and attendants rode up on top of the back seat of each car, and Vicki placed her feet on Steve's and my seat. She was given a dozen roses and we started around the field. 136 members of the band were playing on the field as the cars slowly went around the field...the Camaro growling as it rolled, the crowd clapping, the announcer keeping up with it all. Darkness had set in, both crowds were full, and a lot of excitement went through everyone as the ceremony took place.
We made the turn at the end of the field, left around the goalpost, and left again at the student section of the field. Each car was in its place, two had already discharged their passengers and my car was next in line.
Just as I was rolling in line with the student section, Eric Eilers a fellow senior, was halfway up the bleachers, wearing a green army surplus jacket, had a box of popcorn in his hand, and our eyes locked.
He said very loudly "Hey Peck! Put it in neutral and gun the hell out of it!" He was smiling very broadly.
In seconds the thought entered my mind, circulated around and through, made the discharge gate saying "Yeah, hit it " and so I did.
There was a compounding set of problems that I had missed out on. When I got in the car with the automatic transmission, with its handle down in front of the seats, I had pulled it back to 1, past Drive and had ridden around the entire place in lower gear. When I decided to do exactly what Eric had so loudly suggested, I reached down, popped the transmission into D (Not Neutral) and gunned it.
The car made a very loud growling noise, at the same instant it shot forward about fifteen feet, the front of the car jumped up and panic filled my body, as Steve shot back against the seat and Vicki's upper body reacted by falling backwards and popping her head on the trunk. I immediately threw my right foot off of the gas and onto the brake.
It was at this point that everything started sliding, as Steve's feet stayed in, but his whole body shot forward and poured him into the seats floorboard. Vicki, lost both feet from the takeoff, so there was nothing holding her from crash landing,and in way less time than it takes to tell this, her feet shot forward, her knees bent, and she rolled up in a little ball, smashed to the dashboard of the Camaro.
Ahem.
The car stopped, Steve exited, pulled Vicki up to the most respectful companion that she was, and the two of them walked out on the field. All I could hear was the entire student section laughing at their loudest. I drove off.
Ralph Peck
Photo by The Examiner Enterprise
(To Eric Eilers, the laughs have meant more, but losing you yesterday took a twist. It was great to hear you laugh then as it was now, I'm sure in heaven they will all love you, keep them laughing .) 1/26/24
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