Cowboys and Aliens

Does the sound of a firetruck or any siren for that matter conjure up any sort of memory for you? I can most certainly tell you that they do for me. Whenever I hear or see the sights and sounds of a firetruck, I am called back to a time in my life when things were exciting, friends were abundant, theivery was rampant, and the very air we would breathe would seem to pulse.

The sound of firetrucks takes me back to a day that involved all of those above mentioned things. "Let's go to Allens Grocery store!", said Eric. Allens just so happened to be our favorite place for killing time, purchasing 1 cent candies and buying the now extinct Clearly Canadian... It just so happens that Allens also happened to be our favorite place for stealing things. Anything.

Today on the menu was ciggarette lighters. Why? Because every 8 year old boy needs a ciggarette lighter, especially in the middle of July, in a vacant field... What goes better with lighters? "I'lll get the W-D 40!" shouted Brickden. Now he was on to something! We'd all seen the effects of fire mixed with a steady stream of W-D 40, this was like the flame thrower from the movie Alien which none of us were allowed to watch but did while Charley's parents were away. Before long we'd played out the entire scene of Sougourney Weaver as she battles creatures from another planet...

Off in the distance we could hear sirens, only adding to the heightened situation. We did what 8 year old boys would do naturally when they sensed trouble, or the reprecussions of trouble, we ran. Thinking we'd escaped with nothing other than our sweet rendition of a classic horror film, we each made our way to our own house with some elaborate lie already in hand about where we'd been for the past few hours. We were in the clear.

I didn't see it when I turned the corner to my house, maybe I wasn't paying attention to things in the now very observant manner that I now portray, but it was hard to miss as I got closer. A firetruck and a police car in my drive way. There was no way... was there? My heart nearly exploded out of my neck it was pounding so fast. Might as well have been acting out a new scene from a different alien movie with the mutant creature climbing out of my throat, leaving me, the shell it's been using for who knows how long bloody and dead on the sidewalk. That would have been better than the ideas that were now aflurry in my mind.

After talking with the authorities and a very very stern, never to be forgotten lecture from mom, I realized that I got away with one of the most awesome childhood stories a kid could hope for. Aside from being grounded from my friends for the entire summer, and doomed to 3 months of folding laundry, I got off scott free!

Luckily 8 year old boys don't get thrown in the slammer for playing with fire. They save that opportunity for adolescents and grown ups. To this day the sound of a firetruck evokes a very distinct memory of flames, aliens and adventure. I also think it's a bit strange, perhaps ironic that my first job outside of highschool was none other than a Firefighter for the federal government, who just so happens to still employ this little alien crusader.