So last night, I convinced Kristin and Virginia to drive me to this lake/park out in the rural parts of my county (Lake Robertson-- as in Pat Robertson of 700 Club fame... actually named after his father Willis, who was a senator or something). We got there with a cooler of beers for me and one schizophrenic flashlight (it has three settings-- hazard blinker, halogen lantern and standard flashlight).
So of course there was a locked gate and we had to sneak in. We walked, at least according to my recollection, towards the lake until we noticed a raging campfire off to the left with loud music and talking. We ducked off to the side and detoured to the swimming pool (also locked and fenced off). After a beer or two, we headed back towards the car when all these cars started driving up and down the road. We slipped into the woods and watched them pass one after the other. Of course the flashlight, as if seized by a poltergeist, began to display its magnificent hazard blinker at the vey moment we were hidden. I don't know what the cars were doing there or how they got past that locked gate. Eventually, in the drizzle, we made our way back to the car-- hearts swollen with stupid adolescent adventure.
Hiding from imaginary authority figures in cars is a lot of fun. I had kind of forgotten how it felt.