SUMMER SONG

Soaring off Picnic Benches With Beauties to Van Halen’s Panama

Far from David Lee and Eddie, we excelled in off-key craziness

Ain’t nothin’ like it, her shiny machine Got the feel for the wheel, keep the moving parts clean

It’s a typical summer Friday night on Main Street in Vermillion, South Dakota as my buddy Nate and I cruise in his slick ’67 black mustang.

Nate’s never afraid to rev up the engine a few extra decibels.

Or not shy either to roll down the windows and blare the Van Halen album, 1984.

Not exactly ‘Dancing in the Streets’

“Panama” was our favorite Van Halen tune and it proudly poured out — like it or not — to the adjacent sidewalks, storefronts, and surprised and staring onlookers of all ages.

Nate bobbed his head with his Risky Business RayBans on — even though the sun had been down for hours.

I finally broke Nate’s intense concentration as he lipped each lyric right in sync bringing up the topic of girls.

He was definitely interested as his head quit bobbing to the beat, and his mouth stopped moving.

“Dude, you know, “ I said. “I was talking to Joni, and she told me her friend Chrissy Stapleton had a major crush on you.”

“No way, dude.”

“Way,” I responded.

One phone call to Joni and it was set. A double date on Saturday night. We’d pick up Joni and Chrissy in the Mustang, cruise to the river, have a few drinks, and well… see what happened next.

Beautiful Girls

Joni looked sexy in her cute cut-off jeans and white Police Synchronicity T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Flip-flops with red manicured toes completed the ensemble.

Chrissy dressed a little more wild and sexier.

As her garage door slowly cranked up like a velvet stage curtain rising, we first got a glimpse of Chrissy’s killer black high heels, tight acid faded Levi jeans and black boob tube top.

Did she know we were going to the river?

Think Olivia Newton-John in Grease.

Drop Dead Legs

“Damn,” Nate said in front of me and Joni. “Chrissy looks soooooo hot.”

“Wow, hey sexy momma,” Joni yelled out the window.

Jump back, what’s that sound? Here she comes, full blast and top down Model citizen, zero discipline

We arrived at the river — about a twenty-minute ride outside of town —with a forest-like surrounding and found a secluded picnic bench far, far away from civilization.

Nate, of course, hauled over the Say Anything-like boom box and put on Van Halen’s 1984 cassette tape. He immediately started playing his air synthesizer to the “1984” instrumental intro.

Joni shouts out, “Oh my gosh! I love this album.”

Jump

Seconds late, Nate is on the picnic table, and leaping airborne like Michael Jordan as “Jump” starts to play.

And Joni starts singing, “I get up, and nothing gets me down.”

Everyone starts laughing.

After a few more Van Halen songs and a few beers, we play Truth or Dare. I get dared to strip down to my boxers for fifteen minutes, but that’s nothing compared to Nate agreeing to skinny dip in the cold river.

Little Guitars

Later, Nate and I find some old neckties in his backseat for headbands and tennis rackets in the trunk for guitars and we were amped to put on our own Van Halen air guitar show for our “beautiful girls.”

Nate was a little crazier — blessed with longer legs and better hopping skills — and took the role of David Lee Roth. I was more than comfortable with the role of guitar-jamming Eddie Van Halen.

The girls were google-eyed and giggled as we performed full of energy, passion, vigor, and, of course, some silliness — our hairy heads bouncing around like deranged Bobbleheads.

The sweat flying from our foreheads proved we were in full rockstar character.

I jumped on the picnic bench madly and made the first concert announcement to the crowd — of two.

“This one goes out to two very special, amazing, and, oh, pretty women. We dedicate “Panama” by Van Halen to Joni and Chrissy.”

Panama

Don’t you know she’s coming home to me? You’ll lose her in the turn I’ll get her, ah! Panama, Panama Panama, Panama

And each time we pathetic squealed or yelled Panama off pitch, we’d both go leaping off the picnic table, do an aerial split, touch our toes, and land not so gracefully on the ground.

The girls loved it, kissing us each time we flew off our small, imaginary stage.

Another beer and a few more Van Halen tunes, then Nate and Chrissy disappeared. A romantic walk maybe? A wild make-out session in the woods? More likely.

Nate’s away, so the mouse, er, Mike gets to play with Joni…in his killer chick-magnet Mustang. The engine was more than revved up.

Let me set the mood:

Yeah, we’re running a little bit hot tonight I can barely see the road from the heat coming off it, I say I reach down between my legs and Ease the seat back

Feel Your Love Tonight

Things definitely got heated, but I was a little nervous about how much time we had until Nate and Chrissy returned from their romantic rendezvous in the woods.

As we continue to make out — Joni on top of me in the front seat, I kept sneaking peeks in the car’s rear-view mirror.

She’s blinding, I’m flying Right behind in rearview mirror now Got the fearing, power steering Pistons popping, ain’t no stopping now

On Fire

My hands started to explore underneath her t-shirt, and roam around her bra, then my other hand glided down and unbuttoned her jean shorts then felt her smoothly silky panties.

Bam!

Bam!

Bam!

“Aaahhhhhhhh,” screamed Joni.

Both my hands went flying skyward as if the police had just ordered me to put my hands up.

Nate’s disturbing face appeared — tongue sticking out eyes crossed — in the window, inches away from where Joni and I were being intimate. Then, he shouted in his best David Lee Roth impression:

Got an on ramp comin’ through my bedroom Don’t you know she’s coming home with me You’ll lose her in the turn I’ll get her

You Really Got Me

“Dude,” I said. “You scared the living shit out of me. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Just fuck with you, man. You guys’ faces were priceless, dude,” Nate laughed like the Joker. “Legendary. I hope you both didn’t pee your panties in my Mustang.”

“You really got us,” I admitted to Nate.

It was finally time to get the girls home, as Joni and I continued to make up in the back of the Mustang the whole ride back to town.

Van Halen’s “Panama” and other 1984 songs continued to play on the car radio.

Summer Nights

Other kissing Joni, I could hear Chrissy constantly saying, “Oh my gosh, you guys are so awesome. That was the best night ever. We, like, totally have to get together and have a do-over.”

Unfortunately, we never did get back to our famous Van Halen venue at the river again that summer.

We double-dated one more time to the movies, and cruised Main Street with “Panama” blasting, of course, then I moved to California a week later.

Every time, “Panama” plays on Sirius-XM radio or my iPhone, I am instantly returned to the river and the memory of dramatically jumping off arena-type picnic tables like 80s hair-band rockstars, making out passionately in my friend’s cool Mustang, and then having the living David Lee Roth scared out of me by my fun-loving and freaky friend.

Panama, Panama Panama, Panama Panama, Panama Panama

Thanks for reading my story.

Ginger Cook, Klara Jane Holloway, Kirby Workes, Gerald Sturgill, Susan Wheelock, Deborah Camp, Jane Kelley, Lu Skerdoo, The Sober Vegan Yogi, Kylie van Gelder, PJ Kaplan, Sara Larca, Terry Barr, Sofia Chen.

Great song stories by Sofia Chen and Terry Barr:

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