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Almost Fiction: Olympic hookie-bobbers

By Sam Jones

Almost_Fiction

If there is a snowstorm which delivers a base that melts slightly and then refreezes, followed by another snowfall, most motorists know that the highways will have a slippery blanket of snow over a dangerous coating of black ice. Smart people know they had better stay home. On the other hand, teenagers think just the opposite; they chain up a car and go out on the deserted streets because the roads are perfect for hookie-bobbing.

Wearing leather-soled boots, two or three of the brave ones crouch down behind the car and hold onto the rear bumper. As the car drives out, they are pulled, sliding around the unspoiled slippery streets in relative safety. When they get tired they just let go. Neat! Great winter fun!

World champion hookie-bobbers who grow up to be college sophomores now need a bit more excitement to stave off cabin fever. If one of them owns a Harley Sportster and one of them has an old pair of skis and between them they can come up with a drill motor and a box of sheet metal screws, boredom will be a thing of the past. Several hundred sharp-headed screws installed into motorcycle tire treads make wonderful ice studs.

With a water skiing tow rope tied off the back and cleated up with big shiny-headed screws… the Sportster is ready. Wearing ski boots, attached to an old pair of downhill skis… the men are ready. At 9:00 at night the roads are empty… the town is ready.

The Harley fires up with open exhaust and moves forward to tension the rope. The skier/hookie-bobber gives the pilot the thumbs up. They pull into the deserted street and, moving slowly at first, test their equipment. The traction is better than hoped for. The snow is flawless and the road surface is slicker than expectation. Skiing the roadway from side to side, perfecting their art they are amazed at how well everything works and how much like water skiing it is. For hooligan ski-sliding, this is the best of all possible nights. Adding speed, they start towards the university campus.

As freshmen they had discovered that the best hookie-bobbing place was the huge college parking lot. Completely empty, it wasn’t plowed until morning. They also discovered that the campus security cops hung out there, eating doughnuts, sleeping and protecting the parking lot from sliding trespassers. The previous year they had been caught defiling the snow, required to go before the dean and they were put on probation. Tonight was payback. Tonight they would get even with the cops.

The following is a transcription of a tape recording detailing the specifics of the campus security officers attempting to thwart the heinous crime of hookie-bobbing. It was recorded by a nondescript freshman male student, who, without a date on a Saturday night, sat quietly in his darkened dorm room listening to police calls on the radio.

** “Unit B… come in Unit B. This is Unit A. I’m in position. Where are you? Over.”

** “Unit A, I’m at the south side of the Student Union parking lot right next to the exit. Where are you? Over.”

** “I’m at the north corner behind the oak tree, covering the entrance to the lot. Blink your lights if you can see me. Over.”

** “Right. I see you now. Hold tight and save me a doughnut. Over.”

(Time lapse.)

** “Unit B, wake up; here comes someone. Over.”

** “OK; I’m awake. How many? Over.”

** “Can’t tell. Weird; it sounds like a motorcycle. Hold tight; they’re on their way into our trap. Heads up. They are taking the bait. Yep; it is a motorcycle. He’s pulling a slider on skis, like a water skier. I ain’t seen nothing like that before. Looks like these guys are some kind of old pros. The smart-ass punk is trying to jump a wake. We’ve got to put a stop to this lack of respect for private property. OK. Unit B. Spring the trap and block the exit. Over.”

** “Roger Unit A. I’m moving the patrol car across the exit now. Over.”

** “They’re halfway to you. This guy is sliding all over the place. That motorcycle has traction like a tank. These delinquents have been here before. They are repeat offenders. Over.”

** “Roger Unit A. I copy a possible repeater. Over.”

** “OK. They’ve had enough time to break the law and get into serious trouble; reckless driving, hookie-bobbing, trespassing. I’m hitting the lights and siren and moving in on them from my side. Heads up;, they’ll be running your way. Over.”

** “Roger; I’m hitting the lights also. They see me now. What should I do? They’re headed straight for me. Over.”

** “Stay put. Don’t let them out. Don’t move. Over.”

** “They don’t look like they figure on stopping. Over.”

** “Relax; I’m right on their tail. They have to stop. I’ve got them in a sandwich. Wait a minute; they’re waving at me. Smart-ass college punks; I’ll fix them. Don’t move an inch. I want those punks. Hold steady; we almost got them… wait… wait… what the hell? The skier is pulling off some kind of backpack. He’s throwing it at me. It’s full of liquid soap. Ohhh shitttttt…” (The noise of a crash.)

End of Transcription.

The Harley Sportster pulled out of the sandwich at the last possible instant and the two cop cars crashed into each other.

After transcribing the tape recording, the lonely freshman student snuck into the campus print shop and made copies. He signed them with a nom de plume and added them as a handout to the campus newspaper. Although he always denied it and was questioned by the campus security several times, it wasn’t long before his identity was known to the students and he became an underground campus hero. The lonely freshman never had another Saturday night free. The Olympic hookie-bobbers remain free to this day.

Disclaimer: Let me state unequivocally that because the statute of limitations never runs out on the scandalous crime of hookie-bobbing… it wasn’t me, I don’t know who did it, I wasn’t even there, it probably never happened. Most likely this is just another urban legend.

 

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