Many will understand what I'm about to say even if my vocabulary or terminology is unfamiliar...in honor of Stylezink and her request, I'm going to reference a word I expect with her history in Hawaii as well, she will most surely recognize.

Pakalolo.

Yes, I am a new creation and I don't engage in this type of activity any longer, but my past is my past and it can't be changed. This story is mild compared to others I could share and many may have gone down a similar road.....past experiences contribute in shaping us into who we are in the present and God can use experiences one might not be too proud of in mighty and powerful ways. Besides that, I still have a sense of humor.

Anyhow, my most embarrassing moment in high school is attributed to my then regular smoking of "Pakalolo." No, I did not attend High School in Hawaii, I was here in Washington State. After having lived on the Big Island as long as I did however, there are many words from the culture there which are, and still remain after being back on the mainland more than four years, a part of my vocabulary.

Anyways, I was a sophomore who didn't even have her learners permit yet. My friend Vicki and her cousin Steve and I used to go off campus and smoke every day at lunch. Steve and I kind of had a thing for one another. His decision to allow me to drive his Ford Maverick with my having no prior driving experience aside from steering a vehicle while sitting on my daddy's lap as a little girl wasn't too brilliant.

So from what I think i remember was our town dentists parking lot, I took a right, pulled out onto main-street, headed back towards the high school parking lot. I heard a horn blaring. Then, when clear this time, I made a left into the high school parking lot and of course I was speeding, wanting anyone around to take notice. So I reached the last row, it being my intention to turn left down it and park the car. As it turned out, there were a lot of guys crossing in front of us and it seemed to me they were taking forever. I became impatient, threw the automatic transmission into reverse, and stomped on the gas without looking behind me first. The right rear tire of the Maverick ended up sitting on top of the left front tire of a baja bug, having completely shattered it's fiberglass fender. The guy with the bug was not a happy camper and neither was Steve. Steve didn't say much and remained calm at least. I was totally embarrassed, here I was thinking I was so cool, ripping around, doing just fine without a license and of course I never expected anything bad to happen...bad things only happen to other people, know what I mean?

Not only were those in the parking lot laughing at me, I was late to class and had to explain why, in front of the entire class.

So the dude w/ the bug got an estimate saying the replacement of the fender was going to cost $300. I paid half and my parents insisted Steve pay the other half since he was dumb enough to let me drive to begin with.

For Christmas that year, one of my dad's friends had cut out the police report from our little town paper from the week which reported on my little mishap...Keith mounted it and framed it (just an 8x10)and gave it to me as a gift. (I still have it to this day, but it's not hanging on one of my walls, mind you). By that time, Steve, my parents and myself could all laugh about it.