RUDIMENTS, pt. 1,326
(sometimes it's all things and all at once)
Yesterday it snowed. I went down to
Peggy Runway to have a look; the
new road and repair is coming along.
I then turned to Cortese Road, to
see their deal in new 3-inch snow.
Everything was unblemished, not
even a car track in the early morning
light. Somebody must move, you'd
figure. Not then. I didn't go too far
down the road, it being too much
an unknown for me, and without
yet having put any Winter weight
in the rear of my truck, I wasn't
in the mood to get stuck.
-
If I had a mind to, I'd figure out a
way maybe to walk that section
way more often; but right now
that's impossible. I gag after 50
steps. Never knowing what I'm
facing, the glamor and glitz is
mostly gone from what I'm
doing and all I see is gloom.
That's a lousy situation - each
person around me, from everywhere,
is the optimist I can't seem to be.
I ought to be the optimist here, no?
Perhaps there's a word for that,
but it hasn't yet come to me. It's
like nearing a supernova in a whirly,
light-speed spacecraft : the new
view is wild and amazing, but you
somehow sense - at the same time -
that the 'end' is near, try as you may
to avoid that thought and not get
sucked in. No conclusions worth
making. Just fear of the not known.
-
When I was about 10, my father
used to have an engine hoist at the
top of the driveway where we lived.
Once or twice I remember him hard
at work switching engines in his
cars - first was a 1953 Dodge, in
a strange, early shade of bluish green.
It had a ram's head hood ornament,
chrome and streamlined and small
enough - it was a Dodge symbol
back then, used as hood ornaments
on the cars. A facsimile of it is and
was still around, used as a fancier,
but cheaper looking, logo-icon and
hood ornament of Dodge Ram trucks.
I liked that '53 Dodge, and whenever
I had a ride in it I really enjoyed it.
Anyway, over the course of maybe
a weekend or two he got the engine
switched with another one, maybe a
rebuild, maybe not, that he'd bought
from the junkyard up the street. (Along
the top terminus of our part of Inman
Ave, running to Leesville, there was
a series of junkyards. He was a
regular, for tires and parts...and
occasional engines too, I guess).
The second one I remember was
an engine switch, in much the same
way, in a 1953 Ford. My father had
a string of those Fords - 4-doors
and a station wagon too; which is
the car I got creamed in by the
train in that wreck I've written of.
Goodbye to all that too. My
legendary days of yore.
-
I mentioned that Dodge Ram truck
hood ornament - one time, biker
days, a group of us were out riding
and we somehow ended up in some
crazy place drinking, in Englishtown,
NJ. Plastered and nutso, as usual.
The place, back then, was called
The Jade Inn. If it's still there I have
no clue what it's called now. Inside
the place, it was weird - a big
cavernous space, with a long bar
and beers and drinks everywhere.
The way it was set up was that there
was little reason to stay at the bar -
at every other location there were
things to do - game tables, pool
tables, a basketball hoop, and even
some gaming machines. Lots of
stuff, along with chairs and tables
scattered about, and loud music.
There was a Dodge truck parked
outside there, in the parking lot. I
made the dumb-ass mistake of
saying something about it, like
how much I liked it or something.
A few minutes later, my friend
Billy (he's dead now, God rest, so
there's no fear over the naming),
comes back in and hands me the
hood ornament. He'd gone outside
and tore it off the truck in question,
and brought it in to me. I said 'How
the hell did you do that? (I probably
should have said 'Why the hell...").
He explained that was a simple
yank, and the Ram was only held
in place by a thin cable, not fixed
in place.
-
Anyway, somewhere in that bar
was the guy who owned that truck,
and whose hood ornament I was
now in possession of. It was an
uncomfortable moment but nothing
came of it and no one came back in
screaming-off about their missing
Ram head ornament. When we left
I just tucked it in my riding jacket
and that was that. It's still around
here somewhere, two house moves
later.
-
The point in my mind, I suppose,
is 'ease.' How comfortable my own
father was with exchanging engines
in simple vehicles; a one-man job
that he took on with a certain intense
glee, and satisfaction about completing.
I never had anything like that in my
life - satisfactions came, maybe
about a painting here and there, or
something I'd write, but in that other
'man's world' aspect of wrenches and
steel, or bricks and mortar, I never
had any of that. In that some way
I marveled at the manner of Billy's
brawn and fearlessness - going at
the sought-for end of his quick
rip-off. Fact of the matter is, had
Billy been challenged right then
by the guy whose truck that was,
he wouldn't have thought twice
about decking the guy or going
into a one-on-one combat over
it. Me? I can't even remember
stealing penny-candy from
Murray's as a kid. I just never
had the gumption. Life sure
gets funny like that.
-
Now, I'm knee-deep in my own
funk. The future kills me, and the
past reeks. The present is nothing
but fear and sorrow. What the heck
else am I supposed to do? I've tried,
and am still trying, every combination
of goodness, care, and prayer too, to
bring myself across that line I see
etched before me. If that's another
cliff, I sure don't wish to fall off
it. If it's a downward slope, I sure
hope anyway it's a long ride!
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