A "Rock" Story

I acquired the rock on a Saturday night in April, 1970 in Garden City, New York as I, along with four friends, were coming back from Burger King. We had picked up a couple of Whoppers for a couple of guys who couldn’t fit in my 1966 Mustang.

 As I drove down Nassau Boulevard and under the trestle, I though I saw a  bag and figured I would make it if I ran over it. Of course I thought I could. I had drank a half quart of Jack and a six pack of Colt 45s. The sobering effect of a Whopper and fries did nothing to allay my judgement.

 Bam! I was suddenly alert and aware of what I had just done. My buddies, my friends laughed so hard as we got out of the car to assess the situation.  I said I should take the rock because my Dad would never believe it.

 We pushed the car from Nassau Boulevard to Floral Park, about five miles. We were stopped by two separate cops who found it amusing. As we passed Sewanhaka High School, we took the two Whoppers and tried to push the car over them. Hahahaha. The Whoppers were like boulders.

 We finally got the car home and my cousin's husband put a 1968 305 Cougar engine for $750.

 Over the years, the rock has been with me everywhere I lived: Floral Park, Flushing, Selden, Manorville, Holbrook, East Norwich, Brentwood.  Now, I have brought the rock, and the fond memories associated with it to Florida with me.

 For now, it sits in front of my home, yearning for someone to ask me how it got where it rests for now. But you know the story and some of you have asked me about it before. It awaits that proverbial question.

 How did the rock get here?