I used to feel kind of proud when driving around town.

Even though I live in Central Oregon now, I’m from Southern California so it’s inbred in consciousness that you are what you drive.  I have a hybrid to appeal to my self-righteousness, great gas mileage to cover my cheapness and a sunroof that I can open to further sun-bleach my bushy, bushy blondish hairdo to go with my Huarache sandals, too.

I like to drive with the sunroof open and the radio station set to the classic rock station (KTWS 98.3 FM The Twins) so that when The Beatles’ Hey, Jude comes on, I can crank it up and sing along while slowly waving my arms (through the sunroof) in time to the beat during the “nah, nah, nah” part. 

And I would like to say that even while doing this, I am still a better driver than the idiots who refuse to hang up and drive. 

I’ve also got my preachy bumper stickers that embarrass my family no end.  They include the Jimi Hendrix quote, “When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace,” “Coexist” (with the letters converted to show the different world religions,) “Save Darfur” and “Stewart/Colbert 08.”

So taking all of this together, you can see why I used to climb behind the wheel with so much smugness, the smugness molecules would fling themselves out the open roof to annoy everyone else driving by. 

Until last week, that is.

Because last week, there was a major drug bust at San Diego State University. 

Seventy-five students and others were arrested and charged with dealing in such an open manner, it boggles the mind.  The accused advertised sale prices (Special low prices this weekend only!  No money down oac!  Two for one with valid coupon!) and availability by text and phone messages and could not have been more obvious had they worn their pants on their heads, their shirts twisted into thongs and painted their bare chests with the message, “Arrest me now!”

So you can just imagine the pride I feel now when I drive my car that has the license plate frame reading, “San Diego State University Alumni.”

Let me tell you what it was like when I went to college.  Dinosaurs roamed the earth, telephones were dialed and computers were programmed with punch cards. I got into a huge debate with the assistant dean of the business school because I told him it was pointless for me to learn how to program with punch cards because I had already been taught Basic.  It was years before I learned that being on the Dean’s List could be a good thing.

During my time there, we wore t-shirts that read either (1) Keith Moon, (2) John Bonham, (3) John Lennon or (4) Frodo “Lives!”  We protested nukes and Reagan and genuflected before the comic strip “Bloom County.”  We were passionate about parking spaces and elected, as student-body president, the guy who sold popcorn who ran on the platform: “Power to the Salted.”  Back then we ate carbohydrates with wild abandon and did other foolish things that many of us make a determined effort not to remember.  Our most celebrated alumnae were Ted Giannoulas, aka The San Diego Chicken and Tony Gwynn.  We knew it was time for midterms because it was bomb-threat season.  A bomb threat would be called in, the building was evacuated, they would notice the one person who had not come to class the day of a major test, and this is how you know it was an educational institution, elect that person student-body president.

Yes, I graduated from San Diego State University where every freshman class thinks they are just THE most clever people in the whole wide world because they can rearrange the college’s initials to spell “SUDS.”  But at any given time, there are around 33,000 students or more enrolled.  My graduating class alone had over 5,000 people in it.  It was not a close-knit community by any means.

It’s a fine school with a first-rate academic reputation.  “Montezuma Mesa” awards PhDs in 16 disciplines and has been designated a “Research University” by the Carnegie Foundation. 

But our professors were realistic about the world they were sending us into.  I had a business law teacher who advised us, in all seriousness, that if we decided to become drug dealers, we should make sure and declare every dime of income so if we were ever arrested, the IRS would not be able to audit and throw us in jail like Al Capone. 

Coming from a family with a rich history in law enforcement, I can only tell you what I have heard them say repeatedly, “We don’t catch the smart ones.”  The recent arrests at SDSU certainly prove that theory.

Maybe I can get my tuition refunded.