Remembering Nick - Part 1

Nick was my best friend in high school. We had a falling out, and hadn't spoken since 1993. I found out recently that he passed away in 2005. It's been 16 years since we've talked, but he's always been a frequent visitor to my thoughts. I want to record here as many memories of him that I can remember.

Nick was my introduction to the world of Metal. In February 1989, within days of us becoming friends, he made me copies of a couple of Metallica tapes. I remember listening to them and thinking, "I have no idea what they're saying, but it's awesome!"

In our senior year of high school, Nick drove me to school every day after I moved to another part of town that took me outside of the range of school buses. He didn't have to. He would greet me every single morning with a "dude, we're gonna be so fucking late". A couple of smokes and a lot of thrash later, we would try sneaking into our 1st period class together (Mass Media). We were lucky to have a teacher who didn't hate us too much.

We used to work on that old green VW Bug of his. The thing barely had a floor. Actually, there was a huge hold in the floor, making for a precarious ride as a passenger (but it tossing cigs easy - poof! right through he floor!)

The car didn't have a stereo, but Nick had this cheap little tape player that we would scream out our metal tapes in. Metallica, Megadeth, SLayer, Anthrax, Testament - these were our staples, our sustenance. Blaring metal up and down the roads of COral Springs, finger-horns pumping, heads banging, lyrics squealed from tobacco tainted throats. We were the prototypical Wayne and Garth years before Wayne and Garth.

Nick and I learned early in our friendship that we were both unrepentant pyromaniacs and would (safely) set fire to things every chance we got.
The Bug requred a few shots of starting fluid to the carburetor to, well, start. This stuff is just pure ether and amazingly flammable. One night, we had the brilliant idea of spraying the bottoms of our shoes and lighting them on fire. Here we are, two crazy bastards dancing in the street, feet aflame, dancing about and leaving a path of fiery footprints behind us.

I would often get out of my last class earlier than Nick. We would all meet by his car: Nick's younger brother, Tony, his girlfriend, Kim and our mutual friend Rene. Oft-times, the car would be nowhere to be found because I would have moved it. I would pick up the car by the back bumper and drag it across the parking lot. I would always be greeted with a huge smile and a, "where's my car, asshole?"

Once when Nick and his brother Tony was over at my house, I was in my mother's room having an argument. When I came back to my room, the guys had taken all the crap on my floor and arranged it into a giant pentagram. This is why we were best friends. I forgot all about the argument, and we headed out to rock the streets.