It's summer 1973 at a local park in upstate NY and a local bar has decided to rent a pavilion and throw a party for its patrons. Around 100 people show up and among them is my buddy Frank who, about 4 hrs into it, tells me he has no brakes on his car, a 68 Olds 88 convertible, and would I drive it back to town when the party is over? Sure, no problem. Well the day goes on and people leave a few at a time. Frank gets a little more under the weather as it goes and offers some people a ride back to town later when we go. Other people just assume they'll catch a ride with someone but when its time to close the park at midnight, Frank's car is the only one in the parking lot. I know I've got a ride because I'm driving. Everybody else crams in.The top is up. I'm behind the wheel, Mark & Frank in the front seat with me and a girl on each of their laps, four guys in the back seat with a girl on each of their laps. I figure I may have enough brake fluid for one hit of the pedal, maybe. The emergency brake hadn't ever worked.. I thought about the route and how I could time the lights, and use low to slow the car down some. Visibility was terrible, because of all the people in the car, so Frank would let me know if I could roll a stop sign. The mood in the car was great. Only 3 of us knew there where no brakes. It was about 8 miles back to town. Everything went smooth and I coasted the car into a parking spot, nudged it into the curb, right in front of the bar and in time for last call. We all piled out . "Thanks for the ride." No problem.