Young, stupid, horny, and drunk...

And riding around in a souped up muscle car. What could go wrong?

Don't know what came over me, but on this warm and sunny afternoon, I found myself  sharing a few memories from my youth with the Farm Manager.

Fortunately for me, we were both safely into middle age when we hooked up almost 18 years ago. The excess testosterone that makes so much mischief in the lives of young men wasn't a factor anymore. 

What triggered my waddle down memory lane was the sounds of a commotion from next door.

Next door is a quarter mile up the hill. Normally, that's a safe distance, but when the breeze is just right, you can eavesdrop on a conversation.

There were a couple of angry male voices shouting at one another in the most aggressive tones imaginable. This went on for quite some time.

At some point, I remarked, "holy shit, in my day, things woulda come to fisticuffs long before now."

That was the on-ramp.

Told her the Igor story, how me and Igor got in a drunken brawl at the Steelworkers Hall in Guelph. 

Met again in the emergency ward at the Guelph General Hospital an hour later. He's sporting a head bandage, and I just got an eye patch.

Sorry about your head, man.

Ya, sorry about your eye, dude.

These days the young guys are stabbing and shooting one another. They never get a chance at second thoughts. 

It's a whole different world.

Then I told her about the skanky girlfriend I had when I returned to high school, age 19, to get those last two credits I needed for a diploma.

When you're 19, skanky isn't necessarily a bad quality in a girlfriend. 

Alas, and thank God, these things do not last. Unfortunately, this particular thing ended in a major drunken brawl in a ditch beside a concession road in Eramosa Township at two in the morning.

I'd acquitted myself quite well, under the circumstances.

A few months later I'm standing in front of legendary Guelph magistrate, "Hangin' Hank" Howitt.

His honour says, "Let me get this straight. You were involved in an altercation with three male attackers, when the woman who filed this charge kicked you in the head?"

"Yes, your honour."

"And when you pushed her away she fell to the ground?"

"Yes, your honour."

That was the end of my trial. The dudes involved wanted nothing to do with it. But you know what they say about a woman scorned.

Insofar that we require a "point" to this story, it is this; if somebody had handed us guns when we were having that punch-out in the ditch, we'd all be dead.