The Stroke of Midnight

by Diane Davis
Send email to author

My girl friend Ellen and I had been friends since I was 5 and she was 8. We had lived together in a duplex on College Street for awhile with our families. We couldn’t have known then, but there would be another time in our lives and friendship when we would again live together…and at that time it would be as adult and without parents.

It was Saturday night and I had managed to scalp away the family 1955 Bonneville, which my brother had enhanced with glass pack mufflers. Souped up cars in 1959 was just the thing to do. My Mother wouldn’t go along with what my brother Barry really wanted to do with the family car, but gave in a bit on the mufflers. It was a nice car and very large, as were most cars in the 50’s. Ellen and I were just happy to have wheels. I had only been driving for a few months and having a car and your best friend on Saturday night……well, what could be better?

She and I had talked all week long about going to the local skating rink, and at this point, it looked like our plans were working out. The skating rink was in a small town called Pomaria, 16 miles away from where we actually were suppose to be going. We were going there because I was moderately infatuated with the local good looker, and his name was Ron. He was very well known around the area as a “player”, but I had my cap set for him just the same. Ron was older, with a past and a girlfriend named Sandy; who happened to be older still, and had not the best reputation in town…better known as one of the “bad girls”. I was ecstatic to have my freedom that night, and just knew that Sandy was going to be a thing of the past when I showed up at the skating rink, as Ron and I had planned. I had just started to date and Ron was not real high on my Mother’s list of guys she wanted me to go out with. He was a little bit of a rebel, too old for me, not from our home town and most important of all…..she didn’t know his parents. She would not approve of where I was headed, and I knew it. Ron was at the skating rink, as he had promised; but he was in the back seat of a very fogged over Plymouth with old girl friend Sandy.

Broken hearted, stood up and shot down at 14!!!! My friend Ellen tried to comfort me as we went inside to make a decision about the rest of the night. We were in the midst of our discussion when in walked our dear ole Alma Mater “Mr. Handsome”, Jerry Sanders. He was everybody’s dream boat and at the very top of Ellen’s “most wanted”. Jerry had a friend with him and his name was Phil Dawson. I had known Phil and noticed him from afar, but found him rather unapproachable. Let me rephrase that………….I thought he was as conceited as hell. He was 15, really cute and pretty much attached to one of our high school cheerleaders. He had never shown one ounce of interest in me. This night, however, he seemed really different. He was softer, more approachable and for some reason seemed to have a great deal of new found interest in getting to know me better. It was obvious that neither he nor Jerry were there to skate. I don’t think I ever really knew why the two of them showed up there, or how they even ended up together. Jerry was about to graduate and Phil was a sophomore, which didn’t make for a very likely twosome. The juke box began to play “Sleep Walk” by Santo and Johnny. Phil asked me to dance. At first I said “no thanks”, but he said, “Oh come on, just one dance”. We slow danced and I immediately began to feel unusually comfortable with him. It was a feeling I had never felt before. It was as if we had danced before or that we knew each other very well. Like maybe this had happened before at another time, in another place….…..deja vu. His touch was gentle, but his lead was strong. This felt really good. It felt right. It was the same feeling that night, that has never in all these years changed. And just too merely bring this memory back to my mind……I can still feel the same way I felt that night. This is good. This is right. The “fit”, as I later referred to us……..and the “fit” between Phil and Debra has always been right. We finished the dance and the four of us began to make plans about the return trip home. My how quickly 14 year old hearts can be mended. As it work out……Phil rode with me in my green and white 1955 Bonneville and Jerry drove he and Ellen back in Phil’s green and white 1955 Bonneville. The cars were identical, except for the spinners on Phil’s car. Weird, huh?

We met up at the Community Hall where there was a teenage dance going on, and where Ellen and I were suppose to have spent our evening. We swapped passengers and followed each other around town for awhile……I guess not quite ready to let go of the night. I think there may have been some prodding from Jerry for Phil to ask me out. Phil, as I began to realize, was a lot shyer than he would have liked people to think. We made some tentative plans to double date on News Years Eve………many weeks away……and we said good night.

The next few weeks consisted of a few phone calls, speaking in the hallways at school, walking to class together and an occasional ride home. I always walked to school, which was in my neighborhood, and he drove from his house, three miles away. He never asked if he could drive me home……but if he happened to see me walking home, he would stop to give me a lift. I had been led to believe that Phil was from “the other side of the tracks” so to speak. That his family was well off and lived in a nice big white house on the outskirts of town. Phil was an only child, got whatever he wanted and was spoiled beyond belief…..something that I certainly couldn’t identify with. This information was both correct and not so correct. Phil did live in a very pretty white house on the outskirts of town. But everything else I had been told was not true. Sometimes it’s best not to listen to others opinions and go with your own “gut”. I did just that this time and I’m glad I did. Phil was not spoiled. He was very nice. He was sweet and thoughtful. He had good manners, which immediately won over my Mother and by no means was he stuck on himself. He had a wonderful family who I later learned to love very much. His Mom was very attractive with dark hair and a beautiful smile, and a knock dead figure. I admired her and hoped one day would look as good as she. His Dad was funny and picked on me all the time about being a good cook. I seem to remember something like, “A woman who can’t fry an egg is not worth her salt”. Just one of his many “words of wisdom”. No, Phil was not the person I had been led to believe he was. He was fun and a bit shy, which I found totally charming. We laughed a lot and we seemed to be able to talk about anything. I never remember feeling uncomfortable with him, and as I said there was always that more than perfect “fit”. We were very quickly becoming good friends.

Ellen and Jerry were making much faster progress than Phil and I. They were becoming a pretty steady item. She was happier than I had ever seen her before. Jerry was good for her. He gave her the self-esteem that she lacked, boosted her morale and shot her ego to places it had never been. She was definitely in love with our high school’s Mr. Good Looking.

New Years Eve 1959/60 arrived. I spent the night with Ellen so we could stay out past mid-night. Our plans were to drive into the city, which was an hour away. We wanted to be as far away from home as we could get to usher in this New Year. As I recall Phil had gotten a new car………..well not a new car, but his own car, and by the time he got through with it……………..it was a beauty and the envy of most of the other high school guys. He was a member of the local car club called” The Swanks” and all the guys in this club had great cars. Phil loved his cars, knew a lot about them and always had the best looking one around. This one was no exception. Our wheels for the night was a 1953 Ford and everywhere we went, we got lots of stares from other car buffs, and the highway patrol, as well. We laughed and talked and sang our way to the city and ate at a place called “What-a-Burger” (typical teenagers). We then made our rounds through the usual “haunts” like Doug Broome’s and The Skyway. We ended up at the Alice Drive-In and that’s where the four of us brought in the New Year. Phil and I had our first kiss that night…………..in the front seat of a 1953 Ford………….at The Alice Drive In……………..at the stroke of midnight 1960.

This story was submitted by a visitor of this site. Though reviewed for potentially vulgar, obscene, or offensive content, Cognitial.com assumes no liability for this story and has no affiliation with the author.