WHAT HAPPENS IS
By necessity, yes, that pitch pipe just
mentioned brings up a storm of things
to remember. And oh, days of plastic
redux! I was happy I was gay - not
the way it's meant today. One time,
across the alley from the Stormer
Factory - they made collapsible
saxophones for high-school parties
and football rallies - we were all
hanging by the too-late table, just
passing the time of day. The supply
truck for Rentson's Restaurant was
leaving - a Royal Foods truck that
said Perth Amboy, NJ on the side.
(It was always weird for me to see
a hometown truck in the middle of
New York City. I'd also see trucks
for Economics Laboratories, Avenel,
NJ. It always made me wonder what
they did. Royal Foods supplies all
sorts of pre-arranged foods to diners
and restaurants, and Economics
Laboratories (now known as
Ecolab) supplies soaps and
cleaners to hotels and restaurants
too) - both were thriving deals.
Some guy came around the corner,
really fast, on a mo-ped. I'd never
really seen one of those before;
pedals with an engine, and you
start it with the pedals, get it going
like a bike. Back then, it seemed
a really cool thing - now it seems
like a joke. There's a scooter club
near here too : about 30 geeks,
most every half-warm weekend,
tooling around like wasps or
buzzards on their little, funny,
rides. Buzzards, I called them.
I don't mind scooters - some
of the Vespas and things can be
really classic. But now they get
these, for thirty-nine hundred
bucks, plastic things called
'Buddies' and other brands. The
old panache is long and gone.
Purple and pink plastic, the
way of all flesh : one color for
bruises, the other for sex. I
don't think these people
know which way to go.
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