Anyone who knows Don has a whole anthology of stories that no doubt make you smile when you remember them. We first met in 1979 in the 9th grade, so my anthology is pretty big.
I’m not ready to stop collecting those stories though…
For some reason the one story that has kept coming back to me in recent days took place month before he was leaving for grad school at Michigan (1992?, 93?).
I drove down from Boston one weekend in early August to his parent’s house in Wallingford to hang out for a couple of days. We were going to see a band in New Haven that night so we went down early to visit some record stores and the newly renovated Louis Kahn art gallery at Yale. We took his car.
His car at the time was an early 80's Buick that was light blue and rust colored. It was huge; he liked to brag about how the trunk could fit a standard 55 gallon oil drum AND a body. We tested it…it did with room to spare.
On the way down to New Haven, he was complaining about what a pain in the ass getting rid of the barge was going to be, and that it was a money pit and he couldn’t wait to get rid of it. It constantly leaked oil so he would put in the thickest oil available just to reduce the number of times he had to refill it.
We parked the car on a side street near York Square and walked around, got a bite to eat, then headed back to the car to go to the club. Gone. The car was stolen. On the one hand he was pissed that he wouldn’t have a car for the next 3 weeks. On the other hand, he was glad to be rid of it. On the third hand we were both totally confused as to why someone would steal THAT car. Of all the cars to choose from, why that shitbox?!!! We reported it stolen, had someone come get us, and watched the “Green Acres” marathon on Nick at Night.
Sunday morning the New Haven police called. The car was recovered with minimal damage. It looks like they tried to get into the trunk and failed (presumably looking to use that 55 gallon drum capacity). The ignition was messed up, they popped it and used a screwdriver to start it. I drove him down there, filled out the paperwork and he was about to start the car when he realized his key would not work and he didn’t have a screwdriver. Looking around he found a spoon in the back seat.
For the next 3 weeks he used that spoon to start his car, kept in the expansive ashtray. We tried other utensils - forks, butter knives, broken toast tongs, it was that spoon that had the right shape and strength. He ended up keeping the car and used it the next summer (his last summer at home I believe)
Don was my oldest and best friend, the best man at my wedding and guidepost for all things ironic. My thoughts and best wishes are with Susan and Benjamin.
TQ
I'm so glad you wrote down the car story!!!! He LOVED telling that story. I can't wait to meet you (I hope) at the memorial in Wallyworld in the spring. --Susan
ReplyDeleteI was just re-reading long letters Don wrote me that summer, and I have a very detailed paragraph on that very event! Here is a choice few sentences in his words: "They smashed my steering column to by-pass the ignition switch so that I no longer need a key to start my car (I've been using a spoon), and stole my gas credit card (laughably maxxed out) and sunglasses (which I had stolen from someone else a f w years ago). The cops figured a couple of kids took it for a joy ride, but soon realized that an eleven year-old Buick with 85 thousand miles on it whose passenger-side window doesn't roll down, whose air conditioner doesn't work, whose radio is broken whose blinkers don't work, and whose oil leak necessitates a two quart per week habit isn't worth going to jail for, so they got pissed off and abandoned it soon after. On the whole, I'd say I've been extremely lucky. The only thing I had of value was a yet-to-be mailed letter in the back seat, but it was buried under so much on the back seat detritus (empty Snapple bottles, moldy coffee cups, directions to places scrawled on stained napkins, German vocabulary exams that I flunked, empty yogurt containers, apple cores, and dirty gym socks) that the kids became nauseated and didn't bother rummaging around in it.
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