In New Mexico you can get your driver’s license at 15. We get away with this kind of thing because nobody knows New Mexico is in the United States.
I had my second used car by the time I was in high school. It was the almost-Batmobile. We didn’t say pseudo-, semi-, quasi-, or any other of those because they don’t work. It was the almost-Batmobile and I was almost-Batman. The car had secret functions, almost. I was a great Detective and hero to children, almost.
We were all almost-heroes together. My friend Zac(k) was almost-Spiderman. He had an almost-danger sense. When you hit him in the head his almost-danger sense was activated. He knew something was going on. That was one of his super powers.
We used to drive around in that almost-Batmobile VW bus being heroes. We’d drive down the highway. I would hang my legs and ass out the driver’s window and work the gas and brake with my hands. Zac(k) would steer from the passenger seat with his feet. Right down the highway like that.
We’d force feed our friends gin and make them swim for an hour by kicking them if they came close the edge of the swimming pool.
We’d turn off the headlights at night and drive the mountain roads like almost-bats outta Hell.
We’d cripple the children with slower wits and terrorize the entire high school unless they consented to being our almost-Robins and such.
That’s why America is so great. Anyone can almost be a superhero. We were some funny fucking kids.