Era: 85-87

Memory: About five or six of us rode beach Cruisers up to the top of Mustang Hill. It was probably Ten or Eleven o’clock on a Friday night.

Somehow, somebody had “acquired” a keg of wine from Laguna Seca speedway the week before and we had tapped it with a garden hose in my dad’s garage and filled up a few plastic bottles with the low grade elixir, stuffed them in our sweatshirts and pedaled out for a night of adventure.

I remember being up on that hill, a million stars spinning around our heads on that warm, clear Gilroy night. We passed the jugs around, nonchalantly taking pulls and flipping each other grief. It was one of those moments that will stay with me forever.

When we’d drained the bottles we stumbled onto our bikes and bombed down the back trail into Christmas Hill. I still can’t believe that part of it. We didn’t have any headlamps, and most of that trail is (was?) totally overgrown with Oak trees so it was PITCH black. I guess we probably had every twist and jump memorized by then, so we made it through somehow.

Then it was downtown. Well not DOWNTOWN, but down to 1st street. That was OUR downtown. Just pedaling around, causing trouble, being punk kids in a crappy town on a summer weekend.

I think that was the night (Name removed to protect the not so innocent) stole a tray of donuts from behind the counter in the Winchels by the movie theatre.