Once upon a time, a long time ago, back in my youth, I was sportin’ a ’64 Buick Riviera. Bronze was the color, low profile mags, and dropped on the ground. The engine was a 465 cubic inch with an automatic on the floor. It would smoke the tires until you let up on the gas pedal, and gas was 50 cents a gallon.
I was the cock of the walk, or so I thought. Girls would ask me out, and I loved it. When I went to dances, girls would come to me and ask me to dance. I remember when cruising along with my best girl on my side, we went down by the river. We parked down on the dike and I faced the car looking out over the river and cuddled close to each other, waiting for the sun to set.
As we both sat, embraced in each others arms, we looked out across the river. We were watching the extremely large red ball. We both looked at each other and back at the big red ball, and at the same moment, we realized it wasn’t the sun setting. The sun was to the right, and more of a golden glow.
At that moment, the big red ball shot straight up in the sky, stopped half way up, and even faster than before, shot straight up and out of sight. I’ve never seen the big red ball again, (but I know it was observing us.) (It changed me forever.)
—Randy Long
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