Louie doesn’t say how old he was when they collected over-ripe tomatoes. Let’s imagine nine or ten. Then imagine that he’s your son. I’d be unhappy if my ten-year old boy was pulling this stunt. Louie’s mother was a hard-core Baptist who shouldn’t have put up with such shenanigans. Maybe things are different when dealing with the tenth child? The oldest had finished school and moved far from home. This kid was just out having fun with the neighbor kids.
The good news in these stories, so far, is that Louie is never the one caught. That will change as he ages.
During the fall of the year and during the evening hours we had a garden raiding gang that collected over ripe tomatoes.
We kept them in a box for future use after our rope trick which was to stop cars and make drivers hopping mad – enough to call the local gestapo – the motorcycle cop.
We had about ten kids, we’d gather on one side of the road and when a car came along, five of the boys would run to the other side of the road holding what appeared to be a rope leading to the other side.
Of course this was at night, hard for the driver to see what was actually taking place, but what appeared to be a bunch of idiots holding a rope across the road. The driver would come to a screeching halt, jump out of the car, we would disappear and he would call the cops.
The cop on his mighty motorcycle steed would come down looking for those rope culprits. What he would find is his cycle being riddled with over ripe tomatoes causing him to lose control and luckily he didn’t get hurt except for his dignity.
Of course we all took off in different directions like a covy of quail and never did get caught.
I always did like tomatoes.