The wild ones, the hoods, the hot rodders and me
Posted Sunday, August 8, 2010 07:24 AM


                        The wild ones, the hoods, the hot rodders and me

See the way he walks down the street
Watch the way he shuffles his feet.
My, how he holds his head up high
He's my guy....
............He's a rebel and he'll never be any good...
but he's no rebel, no, no, no, he's no rebel, no, no, no to me............
 
The Crystals  would sing out from the loud speakers at Del's Drive in on many  nights  and loving all types of music, I'd sort of make my way to the cars with the lights on waiting for an order sort of moving to the music.   Most of the families in the North End of New Bedford, where I grew up,  had pretty much the same values and routines, so much of my mainstream Americanization came from my classmates and the people I waited on at Del's, Mount Pleasant, Woolworth lunch counter, the "new Arlans"  and (gasp) the sweatshops in the summer while working nights.   I'm so glad I had all the mixed experiences. New Bedford being as diverse as it is, I also met many refined people whom I wanted to emulate and they too are a part of me.
 
Back to the wild ones.  They were the people my mother warned me about, she said they would in the end leave me broken hearted and with a fate worse than death.  Very scary stuff.  However, the wild boys  were fun to watch, the swagger, the confidence, which now I know was bravado, a veneer, they were no more confident than the rest of us.   Ray, the owner at Dels was very strict about us girls going home with any of the guys from the lot, he would sort of protect us.  I once waited in a car full of boys, as you can imagine  they were all laughing and all that stuff. I know now that teenage boys  act brave and daring in front of each other.  Our car hop  uniforms were a white blouse and maroon pants, I think it was maroon.  The guys were done with their meal, honked the horn, in total violation of the drive in procedure, it was supposed to be turning on the lights and as I approached to pick  the tray, the driver said, wait, let me see if I'm done with my chocolate frappe and he threw it at my chest and said, guess not, they all laughed and I was dumbstruck!  I was numb, but one guy got out from the back and carried the tray for me back to the window.   I had to be driven home and lost a shift's pay, but what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.   
 
I kept working and most of the time it was the regular routine.   To the classmate who threw the milkshake, thanks, if you hadn't, who knows that I'd have been as motivated to eventually move on and follow a dream which was realized when I became a teacher ten years after graduation.  We were all pretty much in our own pre asigned roles:   North End, West End, South End, the athletes, the brains,  the hoods, the creeps, the broads, the Americans, the fast girls (remember them smoking across the street from the school)   Now we are adults, we warn our kids against peers we don't approve of, it's our turn to worry, and we are the elders, and it's so great to know we survived!