One of the best pranks we used to play on local cops required only a stereo and a willing participant. After a night of partying, when we were all ready to stumble home, we would draw straws. Whoever got the short straw had to take this old beat-up stereo we had, and carry it on his shoulders. The rule of the game was simple: if you saw a cop, you were obliged to run away from him as fast as you could, until you got home. Until they wised up, this frequently resulted in late-night police chases. It always ended the same. If you got caught, you'd just explain that you were training for track and field, and were just trying to get home. Since the stereo wasn't stolen, there was no charges to be filed. Those with a bit of intelligence would wear earphones so they could deny hearing the siren, but sometimes, the cops would get you in trouble for fleeing... luckily, we were protected by various laws regarding the arrest of minors, and so nothing ever happened. Eventually the cops caught on, and stopped responding when we took off, which may have had the side effect of allowing actual thieves to get away cleanly. Who knows.
Another time, a bunch of us decided that it would be a good idea to see if we could take a wood-panelled minivan, that we called The Office, through a small pond. It didn't work, but we did sit on it's roof getting wasted until the wee hours of the morning. The next day we had a farmer pull us out, this 70 or 80 year old man, and he couldn't help but smile. I had the feeling he had done something similar in his youth. That van never smelled the same again.
My dad and his buddies once built a club house for their motorcycle gang, the Durangos. Rather than fork out money for proper insulation, they just used cases of beer. At the end of the summer, they took all the empties back, and threw a giant kegger for everyone in their group. It ended up being raided by police, who said they had received calls from people upwards of three miles away, complaining about the noise
One of his friends, who they called Snake, rode his motorcycle through the high school corridors upon graduation. This is still talked about today. A final story from my dad consisted of getting an outhouse, putting it in the back of a truck, lighting it on fire, and driving through town on a Saturday night, wasted.What about you guys? Anything good?
