I was a skinny kid back then, skinny and what I thought to be average looking…I did have a car I loved back then, a 1978 Chevy Chevette. People laughed at it and called it a piece of shit, but I loved that car. It gave me a great pick-up line. I would walk up to a girl in the arcade or at the roller skating rink and ask her if she wanted to go for a ride in my “Vette.” It normally went one of two ways, either she would be pissed off when she saw my “Vette” was a Chevette, and not a Corvette, or when she saw my “Vette” she would think I was funny and cute for coming up with that. It worked more often than it did not. Like I said, I loved that car, and not just for its chick picking up capabilities. That car was my first bit of freedom. I could go anywhere, anytime in that car.
The “Vette” cost me eight hundred and fifty dollars when I bought it my sophomore year of High School. I used all of my paper route money to buy it. Money I had been saving since I was twelve. I was paid twenty bucks every two weeks; I would make another couple hundred in tips around Christmas time. Once I got the car I took on two other paper routes so I could fix it up. By the end of my junior year, I had a pretty sweet ride. I rebuilt the engine in auto shop, saved up for some fancy wheels and put new upholstery in, which I was only able to afford by working out a deal with the guy at the upholstery shop. I would work nights and weekends in his shop for free if he would re-upholster my car. I think I got the short end of the stick on that deal; I put in way more hours than the upholstery was worth. About the only thing I didn’t change in that car was the stereo. I bought the car from a guy who worked at a place that sold and installed car stereos. That thing could blast out the Judas Priest and Motley Crue tapes I had back in those days. I was even able to talk my way into a senior’s only auto body class in High School so I could remove the rust and paint the damn thing. It was a sweet color; it was this eye-popping sunburst yellow.
My Friends and I would go cruising down the main drag every Friday night in that car. We normally pulled off into a parking lot to watch the muscle cars race, Trans Ams, Camaros, Mustangs and the occasional ‘Cuda. If we were lucky, one of the guys would talk an older brother or sister in to buying us a six-pack of cheap beer. Six beers between four guys, and would we think we tough guys after drinking a can and a half each. When we started turning eighteen the sky was the limit. We could legally buy beer and liquor, for some reason though we never really strayed too far from a six-pack of Old Milwaukee. On Saturday nights, we would take the car to the Drive-In on the edge of town. There we would either watch a movie or try to pick up girls…we normally ended up watching the movie no matter what.
But that one summer day, a few weeks before I would leave…that was one hell of a day with that car. It started around one in the afternoon. I had just finished painting the house and was cleaning up brushes with a hose out back. My friend Chris came around the house and yelled, “DUDE!! We gotta head out, I just met this chick at the Arcade, she won’t go out with me unless I bring a friend.”
“Uh-huh…and I suppose she has a great personality.” I said.
“I dunno dude, I never saw her, but, we gotta go now.” Chris replied.
“In case you haven’t noticed Chris, I am in no shape to go out, it is ninety-five out, I am hot, sweaty and covered with house paint.” I said back somewhat irritated.
“Jim, just take a fuckin’ cold shower so you can cool off and get the paint off of you.” Chris said.
“Would you watch your language, my Mom is home….Fine, I will go get cleaned up. She better be worth it or I am kickin’ your ASS!!” I said.
Chris and I went into the house; he was going to wait in my room while I showered. That is, he was until my Mom got a hold of him. “Christopher!!” My Mom said in her sternest mom voice, “What was that language I heard you using…” She went on as I turned on the shower, “Good, he is gonna get it, it serves him right.” I said under my breath.
I showered, shaved and got dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and a t-shirt. When I got out to the living room, there was Chris, looking like a whipped puppy. My Mom had given it to him good; of course, dropping the f-bomb in front of her would be like him swearing in front of his own Mom, we had been best friends since kindergarten and were more like brothers than friends. Chris got up from the couch and followed me out the door.
“Dude, we have to take your car.” Chris said.
“What? You don’t have gas money again?” I said.
“No, I…I have gas money…” Chris said haltingly.
“You didn’t.” I said
“Well, dude, she is hot.” Chris stammered.
“You used my line about the car didn’t you. “ I said.
“Dude, she is hot, I figured you wouldn’t mind.” Chris said pleadingly.
“Alright, we will take my car, but you owe me.” I said.
It was the mid-eighties and arcades were everywhere. We normally hung out at Voyager III on the east side. Not today, Chris had us driving over to Tilt on the west side. A side of town that a couple Blue Collar kids should not be in, I wondered what the hell Chris was getting us into.
We got to the strip mall and parked in front of a bookstore, so the girl Chris was after would not see us getting out a Chevette right away. We entered the arcade, the first time I had ever been into this particular establishment. The first thing I noticed was that it was a lot classier than arcades on the east side. All along the top of the wall were custom neon signs for each game, the one that really stood out was the blue and yellow Pac-Man sign, it looked just like the game screen. The game room was dimly lit, not the total darkness I was used to in the arcades I hung out it in. There was even a snack bar in the back…I could only imagine what they charged for a soda in this place. Chris waved and said Hi to someone I could not see from my vantage point behind him. I looked around nervously and noticed that it seemed as if there was some sort of uniform in the place…khaki shorts and pastel colored polo shirts with the collars turned up. Man, were we ever in the wrong place.
“Jim, this is Sue, and this is her friend Valerie…” Chris may as well have been speaking Swahili at that point. All of my senses were overtaken by Valerie; her jade colored eyes, her scent, the way she flipped her blonde hair back before she offered me her hand to shake and her angelic voice, even twenty-five years later, thinking of that meeting still makes my heart skip a beat. As she reached out her hand, it was everything I could do not to trip over myself. Chris asked me for the keys to the “Vette”, I fumbled around for them in my pockets and dropped them as I handed them to him. Cris and Sue left Valarie and me alone, or as alone as you could be in a crowded arcade. At this point my brain felt like it had the consistency somewhere between cottage cheese and yogurt. What could I possibly have to say to a goddess among teenage boys.
Luckily, she went first, “Hey, want to play Galaga?”
Galaga, my favorite game, not only was she hot, she played Galaga.
I somehow engaged my brain to my mouth and said, “Sure.”
I didn’t dare say much more as I would, without a doubt, say something asinine to this vision of loveliness. She went first and died rather quickly, it was my turn, five levels and forty-thousand points later it was her turn again.
“Idiot, you should let her win.” I thought to myself.
After the game she said, “Wow you are really good.”
“Thanks.” I still could not trust my tongue to do my brain’s bidding so I limited myself to one-word answers.
“Could you show me how to play Galaga like you do?” She asked.
“Sure.” This would require more than one word at a time; I hoped my brain and tongue could get it together.
I popped a quarter in the machine and said, “The game has a pattern, you just have to learn the pattern and then make a pattern around that pattern. On this level you have to stay in the corners when the ships dive, and move to center when they are not diving…on the next le…” I felt her hand on my shoulder, her breath on my neck as she stood on a stool and peered over my shoulder…I never made it past the first level.
She looked at me laughed and then asked, “Do I make you nervous?”
“Uh-huh.” I mumbled, figuring I had blown it.
“I am just as nervous as you are.” She said.
At that point, I saw her as a human being and not the goddess I had placed upon a pedestal.
She then said, “When you touched my hand, I swear I felt a jolt of electricity go through me.”
“My heart skipped a beat when I saw you.” I said.
We were leaning towards each for a kiss when Chris came in and slapped me on the back and said, “DUDE! Let’s head over to the Chocolate Shoppe for Ice Cream.” I could have killed Chris on the spot. I was sure the evil look I gave him would kill him, but, he was either immune to the evil eye or he was oblivious to it. So the four of us piled into the Chevette and headed for Ice Cream.
Once at the Chocolate Shoppe we were able to talk, I learned her Dad was the State District Attorney and she went to the only private High School in the area. She was leaving for Princeton in the fall. I was embarrassed to tell her that my Dad worked in inedibles at the meat packing plant and that the only way I could go afford college was to go into the Army. She didn’t seem to care though.
We saw each other every day those last few weeks I was home. We were in love. The day I had to leave was the hardest day of my young life. At first, she wrote me every day, when she started school it dropped down to a letter or two a week, when I was shipped overseas, it was a letter every couple of weeks. After two years I came home on leave over Christmas, it was like we had never been apart, for that month we were inseparable and talked about our futures, ignoring the possibility of a future together, it was like each of us was avoiding the conversation we needed to have. I reported for duty at Ft. Campbell, Ky. After my leave, another two years to go before my tour was up and I could start college. The letters from Valerie slowed to a trickle, about one a month. Then, in June I received a “Dear John” letter, she had met someone else…the letter basically said, “he is here, you are not, have a nice life.” The last year and a half of my time was sheer hell. If I was not on duty, I was drinking…I had no interest in meeting anyone at that point, my heart would not let anyone close.
My enlistment ended and I went home, I had money for college and could start my life anew. When I got home I tried looking up some old friends, but they were all gone, they had moved away or had changed so much that I did not know them anymore, actually, it wasn’t them that had changed, it was me, I was mature beyond my years, they were still acting like they were in High School. I pulled the tarp off my car; my Dad said, “I turned her over for you once a week…she should start right up.”
I hopped in, started my car up, and just drove around town. I found myself in front of what used to be Tilt, now it was a furniture store.
“Nothing ever lasts.” I said to myself.
I got out of my car and walked past the furniture store to the bookstore. Once inside while perusing a book on motorcycles I heard a voice from what seemed to be a lifetime ago. It was Valerie. My heart skipped a beat…While she was waiting for the clerk to get the book she asked for; she looked around the store, our eyes met. At that point I think I experienced every emotion known to man, anger, hurt, sadness, love and betrayal…to name a few.
She ran across the store and hugged me, she said, “I am so sorry I hurt you, there was no one else. I was confused and scared, and instead of doing the right thing, I did the wrong thing. I hope you will find it in you to forgive me.”
Overwhelmed my emotions, I got down on one knee and asked, “Will you marry me.”
Now today, our kids laugh at me for lovingly maintaining a ’78 Chevy Chevette and they think it is even funnier that on every wedding anniversary their parents celebrate by visiting a furniture store a bookstore and an ice cream parlor….and every time I look in her eyes today, I feel my heart skip a beat…
Your story made me smile and laugh out loud.
ReplyDeleteThe line "That car was my first bit of freedom. I could go anywhere, anytime in that car." was incredibly powerful. For me it got to the crux of the story.
For me the car is a metaphor for his life - nothing comes easy for him, It is the hard work and perseverance he puts into that car that gives him that small bit of freedom and choice. As he grows from a boy into a man, it is the work and perseverance he puts into his life that ultimately allows him to have a small bit of freedom and choice. Ironically in both cases it leads him indirectly to Valerie which gives him what we all ultimately want in life - a sense of connection.