You are spot on about those days of smoking weed and driving...
Oh, man...
One night, as a stupid teenager out in the family sedan on a warm summer night, tokin' up & chillin' out to, I dunno, probably Olias of Sunhillow or Stomu Yamashta or something, I got pulled over for cruising through a city park after hours (see "stupid" above), less than 5 minutes after flicking the roach out the window. The cop hadn't witnessed that (whew), but he sure could smell it. "If I take a look through your car right now, am I going to find anything?" he asked. "Because if the answer is yes, it's gonna go about ten times easier on you if you tell me about it now."
I remember the palpable wave of relief as I answered, "No, sir, go right ahead, sir!" while simultaneously thinking,
no sir, the last of it just went out the window about a song and a half ago, sir! I can also remember that feeling quickly mutating into a cold, sweaty panic as I realized that I had no idea what my
sister might have stashed under the dash for a rainy day! After I somehow avoided climbing out of my skin for the next few minutes, the cop finally finished feeling up my car, gave me a stern lecture, and sent me on my way.
Next morning, as I was relating this encounter to Big Sis, she said, "Come out the the car for a minute." She then proceeded to unscrew the plastic decorative logo from the center of the steering wheel on our '64 Oldsmobile, revealing a small compartment, just the right size for storing the 3 or 4 joints that were neatly tucked in there:
(visual aid provided by the movie "Slap Shot")
-- Jim