I think the best one I have heard yet was.....
Quite a few years ago, I was stilling living in our extremely
small house with a one car garage (OUCH!!!). Some of you that have visited
me while I was still living there can attest to the tiny garage I had, and how
one 1958 Plymouth 4drHT could fill that space not only quickly, but completely.
In order for me to do ANY work on my car, or in the garage for that matter, I
had to pull her (Belvy, not my wife.... I won't go there... LOL!!) out of the
garage, and spill my tools and such all over the driveway. Well, I didn't have
to spill the tools and such all over, it just always seemed to happen that way.
Well it was one fine summer day where the weather was actually quite nice,
which in south Texas terms means that it was 90 degrees or less with ONLY 90%
humidity, and I was lazily tinkering with the ol' girl (again, car, not wife....
please, your gonna get my in a ton of trouble, so stop that!). I had just come
up from the rear of the car after having finally fixed, and working again, my
reverse light (let me tell you, of all the things I fixed on her so far, THAT
was the toughest one to do! Simplest, I know, but STILL drove me nuts trying to
get it to work correctly!!!) and found an older gentleman standing in front of
her, gazing with what looked like reverence and admiration. After a quick
analysis of the man and his overall appearance, I prepared myself for yet
another, "My dad / uncle / granddad / neighbor / myself / cousins aunts sisters
postman's beer-buddies dog had one of those. Great ol' car.....but by the way,
what is it?", as he fit the profile for such a type. Instead, what I was
met with was something that will to this day, still strike a puzzled and lost
look upon my face as I contemplate what was said.
I walked over, wiping my hands off on an already greasy shop rag (all I had
as I never can seem to find a clean one when I need it... sigh....) and
introduced myself. He had the hard leathery hands of a man that had worked his
entire life using those hands, and a face that had both very deep smile and
anguish lines. Although he was not tall, the overall bulk of his frame made him
appear to be much bigger than he really was. Standing at what I can only
guess to be 5'10", I was taller than him, but still felt small, much like a
child would to a parent. But what struck me most of all, was he had the gleam on
his face of a knowing auto enthusiast. That closer inspection of his features as
I introduced myself told me that yeah, he DID speak MoPar. With that, my next
guess was a retired mechanic who happened to hear about this 'kid down the road'
with an old Plymouth. I figured his interest got the best of him, and he had to
come check it out for himself. As his steel eyes followed the car from front to
back, and all around the engine bay, it was clear that he was re-living a moment
from his past, and was definitely enjoying it. I began to wonder if he would say
anything more than his name, when suddenly his gaze shot from the car to meet
directly my line of sight. I was locked in a staring contest with someone I had
no previous encounters with, and with whom I had intentions of fighting or even
arguing with. The stare I was on the receiving end of was just that penetrating
and nerve wracking. I do not consider myself a little guy either, and very
rarely have I ever backed down from anyone, but something about those eyes, that
stare, his stance, made me think twice.
His face drew in, and the already sun weathered lines on his forehead grew
deeper. Those sharp steel like eyes shot further into my puzzled gaze as his
mouth contorted, almost into a snarl. He then said, "Son, I dun know where ya
foun'd her, but if'n you keep on the way yer goin' with tearin' things apart and
temptin' to try n fix things, your dun gonna ruin't her fer shure. Do you even
know whatcha got there boy?"
I was stunned. I had no idea what this man was talking about? My first
innocent impressions and colorful assumptions of this man seemed to be drifting
further and further away. Either that or he was a PURE enthusiast and was
disheartened by what shape the old car was in and fearing that I, being to young
in his mind to own a vehicle like this, was only going to destroy a car
that obviously has great potential with inexperience. I was almost ready to
apologize for not being as mechanically inclined as I could be about the car,
when I quickly said, "Well, I DO in fact know what she is. She's a 1958 Plymouth
Belve...."
I was cut short as he now shot back at me from a face full of rage and
anger, "SON, YOU MUST BE ONE DUMB [expletive deleted]!!! YOUR DE-STOYIN' AN
ORIGINAL GEORGE BARRIS KUSTOM!! You have any idear at all who dat man is? All
them [expletive deleted] vid-yo games and loud music that bumps dun riun't yer
[expletive deleted] brain? This AIN'T no [expletive deleted] PLY-MOUTH (yes, he
said Ply and Mouth, as in ply-wood and the mouth on your face), an I hav'n got a
clue what dun put such a [expletive deleted] cockamamie story like that in yer
[expletive deleted] head, but lemme set ya straight. This here is the [expletive
deleted] 'Desert Rose'. It was wanna Barris's first [expletive deleted] kustom
cars, other-n-than them ol' [expletive deleted] Caddy's he was-a cuttin' up fer
dat Bat-[expletive deleted] Flap tv show. This was tha car that was shown here
first, backin' the [expletive deleted] 70's when kustomiz-in' was the in thing.
It's actually a [expletive deleted] ol' fiddy-sewen Cheb-row-lay.
Ply-mouth, HA! Lemme run home quick now, an see if'n I kin fine some [expletive
deleted] pic-a-tures of that car when'in was new. Maybe then you'd be [expletive
deleted] beliv'in me, and quit [expletive deleted] makin' a bigger [expletive
deleted] mess outta it than ya [expletive deleted] are! Don' [expletive deleted]
touch nuttin' else tills I get back, right? Oh, (and now his mood changes from
rage to that of a sweet old Grand Father about to bestow candy or money onto one
of his grandchildren) ya min if'n when I come back wit my pole-e-roid and get me
sum pic-a-tures fer mah collections?"
To be honest, I have never been more scared, dumbstruck, slack-jawed, angry
and all around confused as I was at this moment. All that came out when I tried
to speak was simply, "Uh-yeah?" Obviously this is exactly what he wanted to
hear, for he turned on his heels, much faster than I would have expected a man
of his age and obvious physical condition to be capable of, and ran back to the
old DODGE truck he had running in the street in front of my house (one car
garage, single car driveway = no parking. Heck, most people DID park in the
street in front of my house). Mind you, this truck was what appeared to be (mind
you, I am NO MoPar truck expert) a mid-60's model, and in FANTASTIC condition.
To be honest, it looked 100% original, and the way he slipped around the front,
opened the door and slid into the seat, it was obvious that he had been doing it
for years. It was even more obvious it was his truck by the way he
maneuvered it when he took off, as he was able to do a 2 point turn in a 2 lane
road and head back for home. He never even touched a blade of grass in this
turn, and never left the road (no use of driveway's etc.)
I stood there for a moment wondering what had just happened, and what was
going to happen next. My wife heard his truck roaring off into the distance, and
came out to check on me. The way he left concerned her, and she thought I had
finally ticked off the wrong person, or had been knocked over the head and had
my garage cleaned out. When she found me standing in the middle of the driveway,
with a dazed and puzzled look on my face staring off into nothing, she ever so
gently touched my shoulder and asked me if I was OK, obviously fearing the
worst. I snapped out of the trance, came to and turned to meet her loving and
worried eyes. I told her what had just happened, and what the man had said. She
said she had been watching from the window as was worried if she needed to call
the police as it was obvious that he was getting rather irate. I still could not
belive what had just taken place. [my OWN expletive deleted this time!]
It was then that she made the best decision ever regarding my car, to which
I agreed and followed to the letter. I pushed the car back into the garage. I
then quickly cleaned up my mess by gathering up my tools and such with
the hurried assistance of my lovely wife. There was no trace of me ever having
been in the driveway at all, or a car ever having been in the driveway. The idea
was simple enough, and absolutely perfect. If and when the man returned, she
would answer the door cautiously and deny there being any such car here, or that
I myself even live there. She would inquire about the pictures, look them over,
and report back. This was the surest way to keep him from coming back. Nothing
says "Love thy Neighbor" than to effectively convince them that they have lost
their mind and gone insane.
Needless to say, he never returned. And even though Highlands is a very
small town, where everyone knows just about everyone, I have never heard his
name mentioned anywhere. Could not find it in the yellow pages, and have never
seen the immaculately clean Dodge truck again. Was I visited by a ghost from the
past? Someone on a car hunt hoping to score a deal by confusing the current
owner (my personal suspicion now...)? A recent escapee from the loony bin? Who
knows, but for me, that was THE weirdest encounter I have had thus far.
I do apologize for the SUPER long email explaining it, but felt since it
has been SOOOOO long since I have responded to ANYTHING on here, it might be
nice to write another Claydo/MyDeSoto style novella email with my contribution.
That, and this assures me that those that I have been out of contact with for so
long, know it IS in fact me (Who else would write an email this long? LOL!! Hi!!
Glad to be BACK! Hope to hear from ya soon!). So, with that, I will sign off but
with this warning: Should you ever be approached by an older man with sharp
steel eyes, and sun-beaten leather like hands, driving a showroom nice
mid-60's Dodge truck, don't argue with him. Just listen and nod. Then, once he
leaves, hide EVERYTHING and pretend like the event never happened, and if he
returns, deny it all. ;-)
Thanks for reading, and eager to start contributing again.
Take care all,
psst, try the fwdlk.htm extension on the website
some time... might find something you like there!
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