and a lot of dexterity. It gave them scope to be anarchic without really being criminal. The routine was simple. A couple of illicit Carlsberg Specials in the Harbor Bar, then they'd sally forth into the night. They'd pick half a dozen cars at random between the pub and the bus station. Alex would shoogle his metal band inside the car door and pop the lock. Then Ziggy or Weird would climb into the car and scribble their message across the inside of the windscreen. In red lipstick, previously shoplifted from Boots the Chemist and which was a bugger to clean off, they'd scribble the chorus from Bowie's "Laughing Gnome." It always reduced the four of them to helpless mirth.
Then they'd stagger off, giggling like fools, being careful to lock the car door behind them. It was a game that managed to be simultaneously stupid and brilliant.
One night, Weird had climbed behind the wheel of a Ford Escort. While Ziggy was writing, he'd flipped open the ashtray and gazed with delight at a spare key. Knowing that larceny wasn't on the agenda and that Ziggy would manage to stop him having his fun, Weird had waited till his friend got out of the car, then he'd fumbled the key into the ignition and started the engine. He flicked the lights on, revealing shock on the faces of the other three. His first idea had simply been to give his friends a surprise. But confronted with the possibility of mayhem, Weird had let himself be carried away. He'd never driven before, but knew the theory and he'd watched his dad often enough to be convinced he could pull it off. He crashed the car into gear, released the handbrake and juddered forward.
He kangarooed out of the parking space and headed for the exit that would bring him on to the Prom, the two-mile strip that ran alongside the sea wall. The streetlights were an orange blur, the scarlet letters of the message turned black on the windscreen as he careered along, crunching up through the gears as he went. He could hardly steer straight, he was laughing so hard.
The end of the Prom was upon him unbelievably quickly. He wrenched the wheel to the right, somehow managing to keep control as he rounded the bend past the bus garage. Thankfully there were few cars on the road, most people having elected to stay at home on a cold and frosty February night. He jammed his foot on the accelerator, shooting up Invertiel Road, under the railway bridge and past Jawbanes Road.
His speed was his undoing. As the road climbed toward a left-hand bend, Weird hit an ice-covered puddle and found himself spinning. Time decelerated and the car whirled in a slow waltz through three hundred and sixty degrees. He yanked on the wheel, but it only seemed to make things worse. The windscreen was filled with a steep grassy bank, then suddenly the car was on its side and he was slammed against the door, the window-winder smashing into his ribs.
He had no idea how long he lay there, dazed and in pain, listening to the tick, tick of the stalled engine as it cooled in the night air. The next thing he knew was the door above his head disappearing, to be replaced by Alex and Ziggy staring down with frightened faces. "You fucking moron," Ziggy shouted, as soon as he realized Weird was more or less OK.
Somehow, he managed to struggle upright as they hauled him out, screaming in pain as his broken ribs protested. He lay panting on the frosted grass, each breath a knife of agony. It took a minute or so to realize that an Austin Allegro was parked on the road behind the wrecked Escort, its lights cutting through the darkness and casting strange shadows.
Ziggy had dragged him to his feet and down the verge. "You fucking moron," he kept repeating as he shoved him into the backseat of the Allegro. Through a daze of pain, Weird heard the negotiation.
"What are we going to do now?" Mondo asked.
"Alex is going to drive you all back to the Prom and you're going to put this car back where you found it. Then you're going home. OK?"
"But Weird's hurt," Mondo protested. "He needs to go to the hospital."
"Yeah, right. Let's advertise the fact that he's been in a car crash." Ziggy leaned into the car and held his hand in front of Weird's face. "How many fingers,