Cruising

It was the summer of 1994, and I had just earned my driver’s license in January and gotten my first truck…that 1987 Nissan SE V6 Hard Body that I described once upon a time. It was a beat-up but dependable 4×4 with bucket seats and a CD player that my brother installed for me. I remember the way the warm air smelled that season, heavy and wet, and how the exhaust curled into the night like smoke signals announcing my newfound freedom. I couldn’t wait to be behind the wheel, windows down to feel the night air, and the air conditioner blasting to balance the temperature, just riding. Anywhere. Everywhere.

And how did I choose to exercise that freedom? By cruising. Endlessly, aimlessly, gloriously. We didn’t call it “driving around.” That was too plain. No, we cruised. That word carried weight. It meant something. “Let’s go cruise,” we’d say, and that was all it took. A few of us would pile into a car or truck, crank up the music…Seger, Skynyrd, maybe some Pearl Jam if someone had a new CD, and hit the loop. Our town wasn’t big, just a sleepy little place with a main drag that stretched maybe a mile and a half from the old grocery store on one end to the McDonald’s on the other. But that stretch of road felt like our own personal runway.

We’d roll slow, windows down, elbows hanging out, scanning for familiar faces. Sometimes we’d pull up next to someone we knew and chat through the windows at the red light. Other times we’d park in one of the lots, usually the grocery store, sometimes behind McDonald’s, and just hang out. No agenda. No destination. Just music, laughter, and the occasional flirtation. That was our social network. That was our nightlife.

Some nights we’d venture out to the neighboring towns to cruise their strips and see what they had going on. And sometimes they’d come to ours. It was like a rotating cast of characters, swapping stories, swapping seats. I’d start the night with one of my best friends riding shotgun, and by midnight I might’ve had three different passengers and a whole new playlist. There were nights I’d cruise with half a dozen different girls, each one bringing a different energy, a different conversation, a different possibility. It wasn’t just about the ride, it was about connection. About seeing and being seen. About lining up weekend plans or maybe even a date.

We didn’t need bowling alleys or movie theaters. We had the loop. We had the parking lots. We had each other. And in a world before cell phones, cruising was how you found your friends. If you wanted to make plans, you didn’t text, you drove. You looked. You waved someone down. And if you were lucky, you’d end up riding the loop with someone who made your heart beat a little faster.

It was simple, but it was magic. The kind of magic that only exists when you’re young and the night feels endless. Social skills were sharpened in those parking lots. Friendships were forged in the glow of dashboard lights. And yeah, a few secrets were born in the backseats and tailgates of those trucks…secrets that still make me smile, even if I’ll never tell.

Now, when the nights turn warm and the air smells like summer, I find myself drifting back. I hear Bob Seger’s voice in my head singing “Roll Me Away” or “Night Moves”, and I’m seventeen again, cruising down that drag with the windows down and the world wide open. I can’t go back, but the memories ride with me. And they always will.