Baby Blue & Speed

She was a nosed and decked baby blue ’49 Merc’ and she was hauling ass across the eastern New Mexico plains. The year was 1964. She had left Cannon Air Force Base near Clovis and was headed for Logan, New Mexico. It was near dawn and her flathead V8 was singing a 75 mile an hour tune. About a half hour into her trip, her headlights caught their first glimpse of the breaks. The breaks were 100-foot cliffs marking a natural cut across the landscape as far as the eye could see.  

As she decelerated slightly for her drop to the lower plains, the sounds inside her passenger compartment at times almost drowned out the sound of her screaming engine. She was carrying two young Air Force airmen who were right in the middle of trying to match the full volume of her radio as the Beatles, “I Want to Hold Your Hand” played.  That music was blasting from Wolfman Jack's Mexico station.  The Wolfman was operating what was called an outlaw "border blaster" station that used powerful wattage to cover large areas...all well in excess of US regulations.

There were other occasional noises cutting through the night as well. Every few miles the Mercury would pass a farmer’s irrigation engine. These were unmufflered big block Chrysler Hemi’s, Fords, Oldsmobiles and Chevy’s that would constantly crank at about 2,000 rpm. They provided a lifeline of water for the peanut, cotton, corn and grain crops in the area. They also gave off a deep-throated, powerful rumble that was pleasing to the young ears of the car’s occupants. The big blocks just sat on engine stands, exposed to the elements. They almost seemed to be waiting for the rest of the automobile body panels, tires and wheels to be wrapped around them so they could peel out and head down the highway.        

The two had worked all day and partied well into the night before they began their Thanksgiving Eve trip. They were running on pure energy…and Dexedrine… “speed”. In those days the powerful amphetamine wasn't controlled. It was routinely dispensed to pilots as the “go” pills on tongue blades that had a bottle of them taped on one end and a bottle of “stop” pills on the other. The blades were even color-coded at each end, red for go and blue for stop. Pilots on long missions would take “go” pills to stay alert during flights and “stop” pills to help them come down after landing. 

It wasn’t exactly illegal for the airmen to have the go pills but it would definitely be frowned upon if they were caught so they kept the whole thing on the sly. They were medics and had unlimited access so they would use them from time to time to extend a lively evening of partying. One small problem…they were clueless about the near term effects of extended use. Consequently, that day the riders were on a routine…pop a couple of go pills every four hours or so and just keep going.

By the time they reached their destination they had already been on speed all night. As they arrived, they each popped two more tablets for good measure. They were invited guests for Thanksgiving dinner at a local family’s home and they didn’t want to crash right in the middle of the meal.  It was a fairly simple matter of avoiding a face first splat into a plate of turkey with trimmings. Their plan wouldn’t work.

After an hour or so at the home of their friends, one of them was suddenly overcome with a racing pulse, clammy skin and incredible weakness. He hit the floor in the living room and tried to keep calm until the symptoms subsided. He kept the others there calm by just claiming to be overly tired and needing a little rest. He was naïve but not so much that he didn’t realize it was the speed hitting him. Resolutions are usually reserved for New Years but he made one that Thanksgiving, “Never again.” It was a no-brainer.  It would hold for the rest of his life.