Sir Dyno's book "midst of my confusion"
- Thread starter datfrenchmane
- Start date
I was now fifteen years old and wearing khakis two sizes too big with the sharpest creases anybody ever saw. I wore a white t-shirt, also baggy, with dark shades for the finishing touch. My hair was combed back, short with a small growing moustache. I was thin with thick arms from push ups every morning. I wasn't getting good grades anymore. It would be surprising If I even got a grade since I was never in class to begin with. School became a drag. I hated the teachers, the principal, the classes and the stupid bell that rang. Everybody would hear it and run into class like stupid little sheep. Maybe I just hated discipline and the fact that everybody wanted to tell me what to do. Sometimes Vince and I would ditch class the whole day and just cruise around listening to oldies in his primo's '64 Impala. Vince loved smoking bud. Every single morning he would light one up. But that wasn't for me, chale. It never appealed to me. I always like to stay on my toes, always fully alert.
Finally it was Friday night as I dialed Vince's number.
"Pick me up in 30 minutes ese....I'll be ready," I said to Vince on the phone. I was at my chante. It was small but my dad owned it. He was always doing something to the house, fixing the yard, painting over old paint.
I still needed to finish my creases; they had to be perfect for the cruise that night. I pushed play on my cassette player and let Mary Wells sing to me. There is nada like some tight oldies. Rap y todo is firme, but there's just something about those old songs that make 'em last forever.
My little brother walked in. He was five years younger than me. His name was Angel, but we called him Angelito. I guess because he was the youngest.
"Where are you going Joaquin?" asked my carnalito. "Can I go with you?"
"Pick me up in 30 minutes ese....I'll be ready," I said to Vince on the phone. I was at my chante. It was small but my dad owned it. He was always doing something to the house, fixing the yard, painting over old paint.
I still needed to finish my creases; they had to be perfect for the cruise that night. I pushed play on my cassette player and let Mary Wells sing to me. There is nada like some tight oldies. Rap y todo is firme, but there's just something about those old songs that make 'em last forever.
My little brother walked in. He was five years younger than me. His name was Angel, but we called him Angelito. I guess because he was the youngest.
"Where are you going Joaquin?" asked my carnalito. "Can I go with you?"
"No, you can't go with me, I'm going out. Your too little to go," I said as I kept ironing. He just sat there and watched me. My carnalito always wanted to spend time with me. He used to always ask if I could walk him to the store for ice cream. I wonder what would go through his head as he stood there and just looked at me. I think he wanted to be like me, always asking me questions about everything I did. Sometimes he would ask me to crease his pants for him. If I had time to crease them, I would. Sometimes our mother would get mad and say, "I don't want another little cholo in the family." I wished I would have spent more time with the little vato. But I was a teenager and the less I was at home the better. I knew that deep down inside he needed me around, but at fifteen years old, I guess I didn't care.
"Your friend's here, mijo!" yelled my mother from the kitchen. I quickly changed and was out the door.
"Be careful mijo, Don't be home late. You know I can't sleep when your out," she yelled out the door as I was stepping into the ranfla.
"I know, I'll come home early....we're just going for a cruise."
I watched her close the front door as Vince hit the switches and the car dropped to the floor. Then he hit the switch again and raised the front. This ranfla was tight, all white with red pearl, two twelve inch woofers in the trunk and lifted front, back and side to side. I never understood why Vince's primo would let him borrow it. If it was my ranfla I would never let it out of my sight. Vince shook my hand Chicano style and didn't say a word as he put up the volume on the stereo. Old school N.W.A. was bumping loud. Simon, this music was firme, pump anyone up for a fight anyday. This was how it was for us every Friday evening. We'd bump the sounds as loud as we could and go straight to the cruise spot. Sometimes we would go to the car wash first and I would help him wash and dry the ranfla.
"Be careful mijo, Don't be home late. You know I can't sleep when your out," she yelled out the door as I was stepping into the ranfla.
"I know, I'll come home early....we're just going for a cruise."
I watched her close the front door as Vince hit the switches and the car dropped to the floor. Then he hit the switch again and raised the front. This ranfla was tight, all white with red pearl, two twelve inch woofers in the trunk and lifted front, back and side to side. I never understood why Vince's primo would let him borrow it. If it was my ranfla I would never let it out of my sight. Vince shook my hand Chicano style and didn't say a word as he put up the volume on the stereo. Old school N.W.A. was bumping loud. Simon, this music was firme, pump anyone up for a fight anyday. This was how it was for us every Friday evening. We'd bump the sounds as loud as we could and go straight to the cruise spot. Sometimes we would go to the car wash first and I would help him wash and dry the ranfla.
Just as we were cruising for about five minutes, we saw patrol car lights behind us.
"Damn!" said Vince. "I can't believe these pigs. They never leave me alone."
Vince drove another half block and pulled into a gas station parking lot. The patrol car pulled up right behind us. I could hear the cops as they walked up, handcuffs and keys rattling.
"Let me see your drivers license and registration," asked the cop on Vince's side. he other cop stood on my side, but back toward the rear bumper. I could feel his stare. I knew he was waiting for trouble.
"What am I being pulled over for?" asked Vince as he was taking the license out of his wallet. Then he reached over into the glove compartment to get the registration out.
"Don't worry about why I pulled you over!" said the cop sounding angered.
"Look officer! I got my license and you know it. You pulled me over a week ago. The ranfla....I mean the car belongs to my cousin."
The cop grabbed the license and registration and walked back to his patrol car. He would run a check on Vince just about every week. It never made sense to me. Everytime they pulled him over they acted as if they didn't know who he was. After five minutes of silence between Vince and I we could hear the officer walking back toward our car. I didn't want to look back because then he would think I was nervous.
"Have you been drinking? Is that marijuana I smell in the car?" asked the officer.
"Damn!" said Vince. "I can't believe these pigs. They never leave me alone."
Vince drove another half block and pulled into a gas station parking lot. The patrol car pulled up right behind us. I could hear the cops as they walked up, handcuffs and keys rattling.
"Let me see your drivers license and registration," asked the cop on Vince's side. he other cop stood on my side, but back toward the rear bumper. I could feel his stare. I knew he was waiting for trouble.
"What am I being pulled over for?" asked Vince as he was taking the license out of his wallet. Then he reached over into the glove compartment to get the registration out.
"Don't worry about why I pulled you over!" said the cop sounding angered.
"Look officer! I got my license and you know it. You pulled me over a week ago. The ranfla....I mean the car belongs to my cousin."
The cop grabbed the license and registration and walked back to his patrol car. He would run a check on Vince just about every week. It never made sense to me. Everytime they pulled him over they acted as if they didn't know who he was. After five minutes of silence between Vince and I we could hear the officer walking back toward our car. I didn't want to look back because then he would think I was nervous.
"Have you been drinking? Is that marijuana I smell in the car?" asked the officer.
"No we haven't been drinking." I said, "and I don't even smoke marijuana."
"DON'T GET SMART WITH ME YOU LITTLE PUNK CHOLO! Get out of the car NOW!"
I couldn't believe this was happening. We couldn't even have a good time crusing without these pigs constantly bothering us. I slowly opened the door and stepped out of the car. Vince did the same.
"Both of you, stand over here against the car. You wanna get smart with me boy? Let me see your I.D.!"
"I don't have one. Why are you harassing us anyway? Because we're Mexican?" I was so pissed off I could feel my teeth grinding down on each other. Just as I said that, two more patrol cars pulled up. Now we had six officers searching the ranfla, looking at me, and looking at Vince.
One of the officers stood two feet from my face and said, "You got a problem punk?" as he flicks the hat off of my head. I tried to bend down to pick it up and the officer yelled, "GET UP! I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD PICK THAT UP YET, DID I?"
"DON'T GET SMART WITH ME YOU LITTLE PUNK CHOLO! Get out of the car NOW!"
I couldn't believe this was happening. We couldn't even have a good time crusing without these pigs constantly bothering us. I slowly opened the door and stepped out of the car. Vince did the same.
"Both of you, stand over here against the car. You wanna get smart with me boy? Let me see your I.D.!"
"I don't have one. Why are you harassing us anyway? Because we're Mexican?" I was so pissed off I could feel my teeth grinding down on each other. Just as I said that, two more patrol cars pulled up. Now we had six officers searching the ranfla, looking at me, and looking at Vince.
One of the officers stood two feet from my face and said, "You got a problem punk?" as he flicks the hat off of my head. I tried to bend down to pick it up and the officer yelled, "GET UP! I DIDN'T SAY YOU COULD PICK THAT UP YET, DID I?"
I stood back up and tried my hardest to hold my anger in. My blood was boiling. If I had a gun I would of killed all of them. There's no way Zapata would ever let Federales treat him like this. He would have pulled out his sword to fight to the death. A crowd of Raza began watching. I could see the helpless looks on their faces. Why were these cops acting like this if we had done nothing wrong? Then I realized what was bothering the cops so much. They stopped us hoping Vince's license was suspended or something. Second, when they couldn't find any alcohol or bud, they were pissed, so they were trying to provoke us so that they could bust us for fighting with them. I remembered what my father had told me. The cops and judges wanted all of the Raza on probation or in jail. It was a way to oppress and control us. I mellowed out and let my anger simmer down.
"You got a problem Mexican? You think you tough?" yelled one of the officers in my face, spraying me with spit.
I looked him straight in his eyes and said, "No sir, I got no problem with you."
The pig didn't know how to react, surprised by my answer, not knowing if I was being serious or sarcastic.
"NO GUNS, ALCOHOL OR DRUGS!" yelled the officers that were searching the vehicle. The pigs had no choice but to let us go. I picked my hat up and brushed the dirt off of it. They all slowly walked back to their patrol cars, yelling for everyone to disperse. As Vince and I sat back into the ranfla, one of the patrol cars pulled up next to us.
"It's just a matter of time till you do something wrong. And when you do, you better believe I'm going to be there." said the officer on the passenger side. Then he smiled sarcastically and drove off.
"You got a problem Mexican? You think you tough?" yelled one of the officers in my face, spraying me with spit.
I looked him straight in his eyes and said, "No sir, I got no problem with you."
The pig didn't know how to react, surprised by my answer, not knowing if I was being serious or sarcastic.
"NO GUNS, ALCOHOL OR DRUGS!" yelled the officers that were searching the vehicle. The pigs had no choice but to let us go. I picked my hat up and brushed the dirt off of it. They all slowly walked back to their patrol cars, yelling for everyone to disperse. As Vince and I sat back into the ranfla, one of the patrol cars pulled up next to us.
"It's just a matter of time till you do something wrong. And when you do, you better believe I'm going to be there." said the officer on the passenger side. Then he smiled sarcastically and drove off.
I can't seem to find a good pic of it but it's in this pic I took. It's on the bottom right corner of the secong pic in my post in this thread.... http://siccness.net/vb/showthread.php?t=277176&page=2 Just so you can see what the cover looks like.