The end-of-the-night rituals always seemed fun. If we were at the Marina or Connecting we'd stop by a "Dunkin Donuts" on the way home. Of course some of us were drunk (yeah, it was stupid) so we'd mess with the waitress or other drunk customers then go to my friends house (his parents would be gone for the Summer!) and raise Hell, spend time (ahem!) with our girlfriends or simply pass out.
Now on more sober occassions we'd head out Northewrn Blvd (it ran almost the length of L.I.) and cruise through some of the smaller towns 'til the local cops either chased us off or simply followed us out of town. One night a Nassau County cop pulls me & my friend over, figuring we were casing businesses. After awhile he starts to loosen upp & starts asking us about our cars. He was maybe 10-15years older than we were, so with a new family he just kept saying how he wished he could have cars like we did.