Ridiculousness, part 1: the ‘80s were a smokin’ time, dude!

Being a forty-something husband and dad in Fishers is a great experience, in a great city at a great stage of my life. There was a time, however, when I was a pre-teen-something kid in Indy. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere.

My somewhere, or sometime really, was the ‘80s and ‘90s. Anyone alive during that time knows that the human experience today is 5 million percent different than it was then. Things that were commonplace would never ever fly now. As a kid, I never realized or even thought about how ridiculous some of the things we considered normal actually were; things I would never let my kids get away with. But it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It was literally just a different time.

So, I present to you, Ridiculous Stuff from the ‘80s and ‘90s that we could never do now: Part 1.

Riding in the back of a truck with the team. 

I remember how great it was to play Little League baseball. Being 12, all I cared about was having some fun and getting the piece of baseball gum that said “Home Run” on it. But there was nothing better than that sweet taste of victory, which led to the post game trip to Dairy Queen.

Oh yes, the classic tradition of letting the entire baseball team pile up in the back of the coach’s pickup truck with no parental supervision whatsoever and praying he doesn’t hit any bumps on the way. Why would anyone think twice about letting 12 to 15 kids pile on top of each other in the bed of the truck of a man the parents may or may not know, who may or may not have a kid on the team?

The dipped cone tasted so much sweeter because we knew we had survived the journey there.

Facing backward in a station wagon. 

Anyone who has seen National Lampoon’s Vacation knows the “Family Truckster.” Even right now, I bet you’re picturing the green and brown station wagon driving at night in the rain with a dead Aunt Edna sitting on the roof.

Well, growing up we had our own version of a Rathz Family Truckster. While not as iconic as Clark’s pride and joy, it did serve us well. Being the youngest, I was always the one that got to sit in the far back in the backward seat and look out on the traffic behind us. I can still remember the nervous faces of the drivers behind us, wondering when I would be projectile vomiting on the rear windshield. Ah, the good old days.

And of course, I would ride back there without the one thing that could possibly keep me alive if we wrecked. Which takes me to my next line item…

Not wearing a seat belt.

There was nothing as uncool in the ‘80s as strapping that restrictive harness across your chest or lap. I mean, why deny yourself that fun flight through the front windshield after a fender bender? I actually heard someone once say they didn’t wear their seatbelt because they thought it would decapitate them in a wreck. This truly was a time of great philosophers – the same genius minds that brought us in-car ashtrays and cigarette lighters.

Speaking of cigarettes…

Smoking anytime and anywhere.

Was there really a difference between the smoking section and the non-smoking section of a restaurant? It’s not like the smoke floated to the end of that section and just stopped. Sometimes there was a booth that was in the smoking section that was right next to a booth in the non-smoking section. Now what?

Restaurants, hotels, airplanes, and hospitals; they were all cigarette playgrounds. My favorite smoking story was when I played eighth-grade football. I was one of the quarterbacks and my coach would call the plays. I remember running a quarterback end-around keeper about 50 yards for a touchdown, but it was called back for a holding penalty.

I knew my coach must have called a timeout because I saw a moving cloud of smoke coming toward me. He took the lit cigarette from his mouth and placed it in the grass. He leaned in an inch or so away from my facemask and muttered with stale tobacco breath, “You run that same play the other f****ng way.” Then he turned, picked the cig off the grass, put it back between his lips, and went back to the sidelines.

After the fog cleared from my face, I did as he said and ran for another touchdown. Oh, the glory days! And finally, speaking of smoking…

Candy cigarettes.

I loved these. Especially the ones that had the red tip, so they looked like they were lit. Nothing like marketing and glorifying these beauties to babies, huh? What could go wrong? Genius!

That’s all for now, but don’t worry, I’ll be back with more because the ridiculousness never ends. The moral of the story is … what doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. Or maybe just lucky to have survived childhood.

Tim Rathz can be reached at 40somethinginfishers@gmail.com. Follow on Facebook or Instagram.