Those Lazy – Hazy – Crazy Days of Summer by
(85 Stories)

Prompted By Road Rage

Loading Share Buttons...

/ Stories

This story has a road rage component, but, by way of full disclosure, it is just one component of a memorable day for which the title seemed quite apt.  Though maybe more crazy than lazy.  In any event, h/t to Suzy for the song/title motif that seems to always work so well for Retro stories.

This story has a road rage component, but... it is just one component of a memorable day for which the title seemed quite apt.  Though maybe more crazy than lazy.

The scene:  late August day the summer before my senior year in college.  Somehow, I have put together a plan for the day involving two pals I worked with that summer at a mental health center in New Haven.  For a national project on mental health “outcomes,” the center had recruited a bunch of college kids to sit around all day reading patient files and “coding” information about them.  (This was pretty much pre-computer; our “coding” was filling out long spread sheets in pencil.)  Anyhow, really great guys; let’s call them Cheech and Chong. (Both were actually Jewish, though one really did look a lot like Cheech.  Or maybe it was Chong.)

Cheech and Chong lived in New Haven with their families at the time, but had also grown up together on Long Island.  We thought it would be fun to have a “nostalgia” trip to Long Island and they could give a guided tour of the important landmarks of their youth.  I invited along good friends of mine who were Yale students at the time, a couple we’ll call Sonny and Cher; as well as my girlfriend at the time, who lived on Long Island; let’s call her my girlfriend.  Sonny and Cher and my girlfriend had never met Cheech and Chong, but I was hopeful that everyone would be simpatico.

So, one sultry Sunday morning, off went Cheech and Chong and Sonny and Cher and moi from New Haven en route to Long Island to first pick up my girlfriend and then head on our adventure. Significantly for this story, there was no way that a group this size could fit in my Karmann Ghia, so my mother had graciously lent me her Chevy Impala convertible, a boat of a car with plenty of room for all of us — plus, as mentioned, a convertible.

After picking up my girlfriend, Cheech and Chong began their tour.  I cannot remember all the sites, but I know that they included a great deli; the home of Sandy Becker, a “famous” TV star who hosted a bunch of kids’ shows on a local NY station; and one of the original Nathan’s hot dog stands.  Then we went to Jones Beach, the quintessential mammoth NY public beach, but also a truly beautiful and well maintained park.  A good time was had by all.

Leaving Jones Beach late in the afternoon, we got caught in traffic on Sunrise Highway which, despite its idyllic name, is a miserable old road (the predecessor to the Long Island Expressway) full of strip malls and traffic lights. And here comes the road rage part.  I was stopped behind several cars at one light when the light turned from red to green.  I hadn’t started moving forward yet as the row had not begun to move, but I had just taken my foot off the brake in anticipation of it.  Coming up behind me, a driver only saw a green light and assumed — wrongly — the row had started moving. So he rammed into my rear and, because my foot was off the brake, I then rammed into the stopped car in front of me.  The guy in the car in front  — a huge guy, and I’m thinking he was a retired cop — gets out and, of course, all he knows is that I have just rear-ended him. Let’s call him Godzilla. Worse yet, as I later learned, Godzilla’s pregnant daughter is in the car with him.  So he is really, really pissed.  Fortunately, I have the presence of mind to say/gesticulate to Godzilla very quickly that I’m not his intended victim, but the guy who rammed into the back of my car is.  So, Godzilla storms past me, I resume breathing, and he starts pummeling that guy.

For better or worse, there is a police car sitting at the intersection where the traffic light is and the cops in it have seen the whole thing.   Let’s call the cops Toody and Muldoon.   This is for better in that Toody (or was it Muldoon?) quickly pulls Godzilla off the guy in the car behind me while Muldoon (or was it Toody?) directs us all onto the shoulder and starts taking down information.  But this is also for worse since, as might be imagined given this scenario of college kids in 1970, there had been a degree of illegal substance usage in our car during the day.  (No wonder the Nathan’s hot dogs tasted so great.)  Quick thinking Sonny, however, had deftly secreted the illegal substances someplace safe and, with the top down, there seemed to be little odor of illegality surrounding us.   So, despite a fair level of paranoia among all of us (that, besides hunger, being another well known symptom), we breezed through Muldoon’s information-gathering exercise and he made clear that only the guy behind me would get ticketed.  And that guy was more relieved that Godzilla wasn’t pummeling him than aggrieved with the ticket, which he knew he deserved.

So we collectively breathed a sigh of relief and were also pleased to learn that my mom’s car, though messed up on both ends, was still quite driveable.  (American cars were built like tanks in those days.)  All good until Cher realized that, in fact, her neck was pretty sore from the accident and so we thought we should head to a nearby ER.  We did so and the rest of us killed time and happily shot the breeze in the waiting room until Cher emerged wearing a neck brace and woozily smiling from the painkillers they had given her. (I guess this is where the “hazy” part of the story kicks in.)  And off we merry pranksters went again, back towards Connecticut.

However, in asking woozy Cher about her experience in the ER, Sonny elicited from her the fact that the young examining doctor had somehow convinced her that she had to remove most or all of her clothing for him to take an x-ray of her neck.  In her impaired state, Cher had complied without complaint. Upon learning this, Sonny went ballistic and started screaming that we had to return to the hospital so he could find this jerk doctor and do some pummeling of his own.  However, Cher convinced him that this was not such a good idea and he calmed down and we continued our drive home.  (To state the obvious, if something like this had happened today, we would all have done everything we could to get this guy’s license pulled, rather than been mildly amused.)

Back in New Haven, I dropped off Cheech and Chong and Sonny and Cher and continued home with my girlfriend, who was going to stay with me for a couple of days before we headed back up to Boston for the school year.  At home, while my mother was unhappy about her car, she fully understood that it was not my fault and she served us a late, lovely summer dinner.  Over dinner, we recounted the day to my mother — to her credit, she was outraged about the ER incident with Cher — and my girlfriend even thanked me for a fun, crazy day with my fun, crazy pals.


Profile photo of John Shutkin John Shutkin

Characterizations: , funny, right on!, well written


  1. Suzy says:

    John, this is a great story! Love the names you give all your characters, and your droll style of describing the events of the day. Even the road rage is pretty funny, probably because you weren’t the one getting pummeled. I’m curious about the safe place that Sonny had secreted the illegal substances. (You don’t have to answer that publicly if you don’t want to.) Thanks for starting my day with some laughs!

    Had to look up h/t to find out that it meant “hat tip.” Now I’m imagining you wearing a hat and tipping it to me. 🙂

    • John Shutkin says:

      Thanks, Suzy. Actually, Sonny was such a good guy — RIP, I’m afraid — that he didn’t even tell us so that we could have “plausible deniability” if we were interrogated. Of course, he probably just chucked it in the glove compartment.

      And congrats on breaking the h/t code.

  2. Good one, John. Kinda looks like your summer work coding mental health “outcomes” had a field trip to produce same. All on a summer’s day.

  3. JeanZ says:

    Great story!
    I was thinking of the one real road rage incident that I remember witnessing, a traffic accident (non-trivial damage but no major injuries) during a rush hour commute home from work in heavy traffic that led to one driver knocking down the other and repeatedly bashing his head into the pavement. Making it a good story was hampered by not knowing either driver or the result of the accident/assault.
    Your story is so good I think I will just salute it!
    I do wonder how often accidents lead to assault?

  4. Marian says:

    Loved the story, John, and the character names. Besides the road rage, the reference to Sandy Becker hit me, because as a child in New Jersey I watched his shows. Don’t remember much, except that Soupy Sales made a bigger impression on me. Thanks for the memories.

  5. Marian says:

    Oh, yeah, I do remember Wonderama, and all the kids sitting on bleachers. We used to call the host Funny Sox.

  6. Laurie Levy says:

    I love this story, John. I actually laughed out loud (as my grandkids would say). Your use of pseudonyms made it totally a hoot! Thanks for sharing a great tale of road rage back in an era when cars were built like tanks and cops took the time to sort things out. Too bad about the #MeToo moment in the ER.

  7. Much enjoyed Lazy Hazy…and your easy-breezy writing style, John. Really sent me on a trip down memory lane. The munchies, and the paranoia…now those were the good old days!? I no longer partake, but even today I get that fleeting sensation of “uh-oh!” when I end up alongside a police car, right before I realize I have nothing to hide.

    On the west coast our version of Sandy Becker was Pinky Lee…I sat in those audience bleachers once. And we had Pink’s hot dogs…still do, actually, with a never-ending line up until 2 a.m. when they close. And, I grew up in a pink house. Go figure.

    Anyway, thanks for the road trip!

  8. So was Sonny in the front when Cheech hit Chong? And did Muldoon arrest Godzilla, or did he arrest Cher for tempting the ER doctor? It is interesting how different the attitudes were about harassment back then. I’d say things have taken a turn for the better, although I don’t know if a Jewish Cheech could pass these days. Or was it Chong? Or was Chong Chinese? I forget…

  9. Betsy Pfau says:

    This was hysterical, John. Like the others, I loved your use of pseudonyms for your cast of characters and the manner in which you told your story. You and your mates certainly got caught in the middle of metal sandwich at that light. You are lucky there were cops at the intersection to come to your rescue. Too bad no one helped Cher at the ER fend off that awful doctor’s lechery. Glad nudity is all he tried.

    And happily, your mother was a sport about her car and still made you and said girlfriend a lovely summer supper. Well done.

  10. Thanks, John re: Firesign. A noble crew! Or was it Abbott and Costello? Or Abbot or Costello?

Leave a Reply