Peppermint Patti

The Ballad of a female motorcycle drag racer by "Peppermint Patti" is the crazy story of her life.
She begins: I had as normal of childhood as everyone else. I was spoiled and spanked, praised and brow beaten. I was restless and high spirited. Chicago was a hard place to grow up in the 1960's. My dad and grandfather were all city workers. My grandfather, Patrick, was a fireman and a hero in the great Chicago Fire. I am his namesake. My granddad was William P. Sextan. He was the head of the South-side water District and ran the Crib in Lake Michigan. My dad, William A. Sexton, was a Chief Building Inspector in Chicago. He had the downtown district when he died on the job. I had a really good father. I was lucky but, it did not save me from beatings I probably deserved.
I can remember having an imaginary twin sister named "Penny". Patti and Penny. Penny was the perfect child. She did everything right. She was mom and dad's favorite. On the other hand, I couldn't do anything right. I was always scolded and always in trouble. I remember hiding under the grand piano with a big stuffed animal crying my eyes out. I was 5 or 6 years old. Normal...
In my teenage years I had many friends. I never hung around with one group. I had groups of friends in a dozen neighborhoods all over the city. I hung out on a lot of corners that my dad told me not to. I also attended four different High Schools, which contributed to having so many friends. I also had many enemies. I was a very tough little girl also. If they got too out of hand, I would just beat them up...this was Chicago before guns took over.
It was either 'beat' or be 'beaten'. I was beat up so bad in eighth grade and I vowed it would never happen again. So, I started working out with weights in the basement with my older brother, Billy. Billy and I were very, very close. We did many things together. He was the best brother anyone could have..
I had to go to summer school at Morgan Park High School in my Junior year for English. My teacher, a Nun at Mount Assisi, said that my short story assignment could not have been written by me. It was written by me! And I had four re-writes to show her. Sister Mary Dorothy still flunked me. That's when I knew I must be a good writer. Going to summer school in a mixed neighborhood in 1965-6 was very dangerous. Besides racial tensions, whites were divided into two groups. The Socialites and the Greasers. Undoubtedly, I was a "Greaser". We hung out at the Chatter Box Restaurant, near the school. We had many fun-filled days there.

This is where I met my first love, Dennis Smagac. ....and now you will need to buy the book.