RUDIMENTS, Pt. 83
Making Cars
So, this Jennings guy, for all his
supposed bluster, turned out to
be a big nothing; just an old country
guy with a back-story worth living
down. The best thing I remember him
saying was about cars, once. I had an
'62 Plymouth Fury, big V-8 sitting in
my yard. Perfect running shape, good
enough condition, except the rear right
had been smashed in (my sister's car)
in a fender-bender she'd had. That year's
Fury, ('62), had torpedo-like tail-lights
tucked under a flat but weird fender.
That was smashed in, and the light was
gone. Jennings didn't care. The odd thing
was, my father had actually towed this
car, with a tow bar, all the way from NJ
on one of his visits. For me, he said, to
have and use (and fix) - and probably
just as much to conveniently get it out
of his own area. But that was good. He
got mad when, instead of using it, I handed
it over to Jennings, for some nominal bit
of money, maybe 40 bucks. At that time,
Jennings said, after seeing the car sitting
there and expressing an interest, 'Does it
run? That's all I care. If they don't run
they ain't no good to me.' Cool quote.
He drove it around a long time, all happy
about it and with the smashed rear and
missing light too. Like I said before, up
there nothing like that mattered. Dirt
roads, no law.
-
Two times there were when the State Police
came to my place : there were no other
policing outfits up in the hills, and I guess
the State guys covered it from a barracks
somewhere. The first time was a bummer,
while the second time was comical, and only
because, from NJ, my silly mother-in-law,
in a panic, called somehow the Pennsylvania
State Police to tell them that her daughter and
family were stranded somewhere in the high
country out there (it was a big, February
snowstorm, and we'd been snowed in, but
it was no big deal), and she was worried we'd
starve or freeze to death. So, yep, the State
Police somehow found us, and sent a guy up
in some big vehicle to make sure we were OK.
That was almost embarrassing, but funny as
all get out too. The second time, those guys
I've mentioned previously, using my spare
barn as a mechanic shop, had instead taken
the car of someone they were having
problems with because of his having had
sex with one of those guys' sisters, which
totally pissed them off, and 'stolen' his
prized Austin Haley 3000, which they
then stripped. Of course, he made claim,
reported it all, and they got nabbed, in fact
taken away on charges, for which fines
and restitution had to be made. It was a
big bungle of trouble, and I had to attest,
as the property owner, that these guys were
there with permission (yes, true) but also
that I had nothing to do with this event and
had no knowledge of what was going on
(also true, but stupid as hell on my part).
Believe me, I couldn't make this stuff up.
-
So I learned that the law was always
around and ready to surprise, and pounce,
even if a person didn't know about it. These
kids were stupid too, but my stupidity was
a bit more as I was their 'elder,' guide, and
should have known better. These kids, men,
whatever, were all a little screwed up in
the head - no fathers, wild, country kids,
unconnected to most everything except to
what fell onto me. They had managed
somehow to read into me all sorts of
ideals and things which didn't really exist.
I was no better than they were, and not
worthy, certainly, of being anyone's idol or
torchbearer. But, that's how it happened.
That Austin-Healey 3000, by the way,
as good as it was then, would now be
worth probably a clean hundred-grand.
-
Over time I reached the point of realizing
that's how it is with everything : everyone
misplaces their idol-worship or allegiance.
About the time of the '72 election, all the
Nixon-campaign stuff I ever saw was a
perfect example of this. The kind of stuff
that was going on under the guise of
'America' was a perfect example of that.
All that midwestern frippery, the cheering
throngs, the middle-America ethos, it was
all of a fake and fearsome let-on. In the
small places in that area of Pennsylvania,
no one really seemed to care, but it mostly
all went unsaid. In Elmira it was mostly a
Republican crowd, except for the college
contingent and all the 'wiser' heads who
went with the McGovern contingent, the
campaign theme of which was 'Come Home,
America' - which I for sure never understood.
It was a combination of college-boy plea to
get out of Vietnam (one meaning) and, as
well, a sort of parody of explaining how
far afield America had gotten from its
origins - except that it was untrue and a
conscious lie. The origins of America had
never included having the Government in
your face about everything and in your
business at every turn - rules, regulations,
taxation, fees, licensing, paperwork, etc.
Except that there wasn't any Democrat
around who could say that stuff either,
because they were all dependent upon
that Government like it was a sweet-milk
free teat and they were dying to suck it.
I always figured that anyone in their
right mind could see that, but I guess
I was way wrong - and it's twenty-times
worse now and the same jerks who would
have thought that way then are thinking
that way now. It little matters in the long
run, (as John Maynard Keynes put it, 'In
the long run, we're all dead'), and that
was as good to say then as it is to say
now. No one up in my set of hills would
have cared if Nixon had killed McGovern
or vice-versa, and they both had gone
straight to Hell together. I couldn't figure
out where or how these people came from
who cheered and hollered for a candidate;
mis-placed idol worship or whatever.
The tiny dirt roads I lived amidst held all
the promise and hope that one person, alone
could give towards their own self and/or
to others. The kids in the schools were
getting all mucked up with bullshit. There
was a guy there, in charge of the Board of
Ed, named Harry Glass. I'd had to talk to
him any number of times, what with my
jobs for a while both coming out of Bd.
of Ed Payroll stuff. He was an insufferable
kind of suit and tie guy, out of his league
there in the country without a clue. All
he knew was the proper school stuff and
no imagination whatsoever. He was
running the place into the ground; a
real socialist ethos in the schooling
department, and there wasn't anyone
much there to stop him. They actually,
right about his Nixon-challenge time,
built and constructed an elementary
school of what was called 'open-schooling'
as a tryout - no separate walls, all the
kids together, oddball New Agey type
teachers corralling students in groups.
It lasted about two years, the walls
went up and everything broke back
into the more traditional format.
And Harry Glass was gone.
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