In modern times, the word “parking” just means you are going to pull your car into a designated space and turn the key off.

In 1960’s Columbus it had a totally different meaning for the teenagers from S.D. Lee High School. Once you actually had a real girlfriend (and I finally did), it was necessary to pick out a spot or spots way out of the sight of prying parents to “express” yourself.

The town is luckily situated with many square miles of rural areas and more dirt roads than you can count. We had no GPS back then. Once you picked your place, you had to memorize where it was and how to get there. Often in pitch black darkness.

It was called “making out,” whatever that means for you.

I was 15 when we came back to Mississippi and lived in the Columbus area.

Not that far into puberty, I had never even heard the phrase “parking.”

Not in the context we’re talking about here.

One of the first contacts I made was a friend of Stevie O’Callaghan, who was on his way to being my guitar hero and bestie. For the sake of anonymity (he’s still around), I will call him Jimmy.

Jimmy was 16, had a license and access to his dad’s car. He also had access to a girlfriend we’ll call Sue, a very attractive teenage girl.

His only problem is that Sue’s parents wouldn’t allow him to take her out in the car at night unless Sue’s sister could come with them. A double date.

Now her sister “Elaine” was NOT an attractive teenager. Buck teeth, long black hair that had never seen a hairdresser, too tall and skinny to the point of being bony. Her breath was sort of Listerine meets onions. Not exactly the belle of the ball.

When Jimmy was introduced to me, a self serving plot popped into his head. The new kid appeared to be a solution to his problem.

It wasn’t hard to pull the 15-year-old me into his conspiracy. I was slow even for my age and had never kissed a girl. Had not even held hands.

Not long before we moved to Possum Town, I had discovered rock and roll and The Beatles, being particularly impressed with the effect they had on females.

Unfortunately, I had no idea what John, Paul, George and Ringo were doing when they exited the stage to meet with the “groupies” waiting for them.

The double dating did not go well. Way out in the dark woods, Jimmy was having the time of his life in the front seat. In the back seat, I was being mauled and climbed onto by the world’s skinniest sumo wrestler. My 15-year-old hormones went and hid in a desperate attempt to protect my virginity.

Leap forward to 1968. I now have a beautiful blonde girlfriend (not just my opinion… ask around) and a car! And my skills all around had improved… A LOT.

My Love Mobile was a four-door 1960 Ford sedan. It wasn’t exactly a Ferrari, but it had bench seats and a roomy interior.

We were friends with another Lee High couple and the four of us went out together one night. A party was being held at someone’s house, and we dropped in to mingle. At some point, Denise and I decided to take a ride to one of our favorite “parking” places. (Now our go-to space requires a blue permit hanging from the rear view mirror.)

It was way way out of town miles into the woods. Far from any houses or even paved roads. After an hour or two of hot “making out,” we headed back to the party.

Our friends wanted to borrow the car for a while and go out to THEIR favorite parking hideaway, which was farther away. So off they went.

We waited and waited and waited. Where did they go? Was there a car problem?

Yes, there was a bit of a problem.

The previous owner of the car had done a terrible job installing a tachometer low on the bottom of the dashboard. The exposed wire powering it had not been soldered on as it should have been. They just made a little bent hook and hooked it loosely onto a screw with a twist. (We’ve all done something like this before.)

Driving down the road, it was close to the right knee of the driver and occasionally it would get bumped and come loose. When that happened, it would cut off the electricity to the whole car. I had become used to just reaching down while driving and hooking it back on, restoring power.

Typical teenager, of course I didn’t bother fixing it. Wrestling around in the front seat, our friends knocked it off and didn’t see the wire. After failing to start the car, they walked MILES in the dark all the way back to Columbus.

After feeling bad for them, we just had to break out in laughter after we dropped them off at their homes.

Teenagers can be mean.

Thom Caraccio ([email protected]) is a retired musician and retired motion picture scenic artist living in West Palm Beach, Florida who hails from Columbus. He graduated from S.D. Lee High in 1968 and still considers Columbus his real hometown.