A guy named Tracey...

vomited out the passenger window of a 1976 Rabbit at over 90 mph.

Jim's reaction was pretty intense. He was asleep in the back seat. It must have been an immeasurably unpleasant awakening.

I was merely driving - and thus located outside the splatter zone.

Tracey demolished three-quarters of a case of Coors as we Jetta'ed across Iowa toward Kansas. You couldn't get Coors regularly east of Iowa back then.

Tracey was one of those toughish guys who emitted a great throaty post-gulping noise - "phhhffftsssss - aaahhhhh" - after ....... every ....... single ....... swallow.

Do you know how many swallows are in a case of Coors? Any idea how many swallows between Dowagiac, MI and Wichita, KS?

He demanded we let him drive at the next gas station. Jim and I cleverly declined, though it required one of us to remain in the driver seat for the entire stop - taking turns to manage all the essentials.

Jim was one of the greatest guys I ever met. I haven't seen him in over 25 years. How great is that?

I was welcomed by the Kansas State Police the next morning as I screamed into Wichita at 6 AM. He nailed me for going 76 mph in a 55 zone. I drove over 90 mph all night long, so I paid my ticket like a pathetic whiny baby.

I stayed drunk in Wichita for four days, and watched the 1979 National Junior College Cross Country Nationals. I was injured, useless and not terribly talented. I think my team was second. It must have been fun.

I bought an obnoxious straw baseball cap at a great western store, and wore it in the hotel hot tub. I kept that goofy looking hat for years. I can blame the initial weekend on alcohol. The subsequent period may be attributable to nature or nurture, but was combined with inexcusable ignorance in either case.

Tracey bought a lot of Coors on the return trip to take back to Michigan.

I think he stayed sober during the ride.

I wonder if
he
                                  still
                        makes
            that
sound.