A
Anonymous
Guest
I remember lookin' at that car with lustful eyes. It was the prettiest car on Bale's lot, at 2nd and Broadway.
She was powder blue with a blue top. George Jones described it perfectly; "Long and lean and every young man's dream, she turned every head in town. She was hotter than a two-dollar pistol and the fastest thing around..."
I had been eyeing that Pontiac for a few weeks. My old '59 Impala had long since lost its appeal, having been wrecked by my ex-friend. (That's another story)
I was a laborer (I preferred to be called a carpenter's helper) but the pay was about the same. I had been working pretty steady and had saved some money, but not near enough. I talked Daddy into co-signing for me for the Pontiac a week earlier and TODAY, was the day I was to pick 'er up. I was excited.
But there was a monkey-wrench thrown into the works at noon. I had just sat down to eat my three baloney sandwiches and quart of iced tea when the boss man came up to me. "I hate to do this kid, but work is slackin' off and I'm gonna have to let you go for now." I flushed. I could not believe what I was hearing. I panicked. There was no way I could go pick up that convertible--that BEAUTIFUL car-- and take it home and in the same breath telling Daddy that I had been laid off.
I cringed at what he would say. There was nothing else to do. It was winter and work was sparse. I grabbed my stuff and left the job site, with my mind racing, "What can I possibly do???"
Well, out of frustration and desperation, I went to the union hall just in CASE there might be a job open. My jaw hit the floor as I climbed the stairs, rounding the corner from the stairwell to see no less than 15 men sitting and waiting for work.
That is NOT what I wanted to see. I needed job and I needed one NOW.
I inquired with the business manager. "There ain't no work son, at least not now." "I'll take ANYTHING. I don't care what it is." "There just ain't no work." I sat down, for lack of a better plan. After twenty minutes the phone rang and the old man came up to the desk. He looked at me. "Young man, commere." I leaned over close as he motioned for me to get closer. "Do you REALLY wanat to work?" Oh yes sir, you bet I do." "Alls I have is two positions down at the river." Without hesitation I said, "I'll take it. When can I start?" "You sure you want that job?" Yes sir. Where do I sign?" I signed the papers since NO ONE in their right mind wanted to work on the dam site on the Arkansas River in the middle of winter.
Because no one else wanted that kind of work (hard, cold, muddy, cold, rigorus, cold, exhausting (and did I mention cold?) work, I got the nod. "Report tomorrow, son." "You bet!" With that exchange, I was out the door and headed to 2nd and Broadway like a blur.
I signed the papers and the Pontiac was mine. I remember waiting in the salesmans office for paperwork and two older gentlemen said, "Man, that convertible is the finest car on the lot. I sure wish I could justify buying it.
Before I knew it, I was behind the wheel, and headed to Benton. I was in HIGH COTTON, SON!!! I got home. It was not soon after I arrived that Daddy came in. I watched him admire the vehicle and then come into the house.
After some initial conversation he got to the heart of the matter. "Son, now you will learn what debt is all about. I can help you with the insurance, but the car payments are strictly up to you. If you can't make them, they will come and get it...and I can't help you. You understand that?" "Yes sir. You've helped all you could already."
At the dinner table I told him and Momma what had happened earlier that day and watched relief come across their faces as I informed then that their newly indebted son was gainfully employed. Daddy about had a fit when he found out that I was working on the river. "Boy, you're gonna earn that car in spades."
I did work hard. It was the hardest job I ever had--EVER. We would pour concrete and have to put visqueen over it about 2' high and string 300 watt light bulbs over the concrete to keep it from freezing. I became a welder/carpenter's apprentice. I had to carry welding cables through mud that was most always 4-8 inches deep from the tool rooms to the job site. But I worked that job until I was finally laid off.
It was not long after that that I got me a pud job working at McCain mall. And soon after that I went into the Navy.
What a car! I'll have to post a photo someday, whenever I find it. I worked in the cold, slicing, nubbing winds--in the mud and muck of the Arkansas, but let me tell you what. Whenever I got home on Friday evenings, a TRANSFORMATION took place. I washed that car and my little ole' self and splashed on a little Old English and off I went, riding high all week-end. I was still single when I first bought the car.
Those week-ends were all too short, as they are now. But back then, come Monday morning, it was back to the ragged, heavy work cloths, to the toil and drudgery of another week of heavy labor.
Once in a while I'd get annoyed at the job, but then I'd remember the REAL wood dash, the neat am radio, the AC, and the motorized top. I'd grin and then get back to work.
With .25 a gallon gas, life was truly grand in Saline County, growing up in the late '60s.
Epilogue
The last time I saw the Old Pontiac was on the car lot of the Volkswagon dealer in San Diego. She was but a shell of her former glory. She barely made it to Mission Valley and when I turned off the engine, I prayed that I would not be asked to start it again. I didn't know if it would or not. As it turned out, I didn't have to.
I was scheduled to go overseas and my wife of just over a year had never driven on a freeway ever. And now she had to drive to Arkansas by herself. I knew the car wouldn't make it across town. So we bought a brand new 1969 Volkswagen Beetle for $1,875.00, on credit, of course.
The old convertible served it's purpose though. We would have kept it a while longer had the mechanic not put detergent oil in it and loosed the rings prematurely, two days before we left for California. But such are the breaks, and fodder for another story.
Thanks for coming along. By the way, the Beetle wasn't so snazzy looking, but you just can't beat that 'new car' smell. <img src="/metal/html/lol.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":lol">
Arkie John
She was powder blue with a blue top. George Jones described it perfectly; "Long and lean and every young man's dream, she turned every head in town. She was hotter than a two-dollar pistol and the fastest thing around..."
I had been eyeing that Pontiac for a few weeks. My old '59 Impala had long since lost its appeal, having been wrecked by my ex-friend. (That's another story)
I was a laborer (I preferred to be called a carpenter's helper) but the pay was about the same. I had been working pretty steady and had saved some money, but not near enough. I talked Daddy into co-signing for me for the Pontiac a week earlier and TODAY, was the day I was to pick 'er up. I was excited.
But there was a monkey-wrench thrown into the works at noon. I had just sat down to eat my three baloney sandwiches and quart of iced tea when the boss man came up to me. "I hate to do this kid, but work is slackin' off and I'm gonna have to let you go for now." I flushed. I could not believe what I was hearing. I panicked. There was no way I could go pick up that convertible--that BEAUTIFUL car-- and take it home and in the same breath telling Daddy that I had been laid off.
I cringed at what he would say. There was nothing else to do. It was winter and work was sparse. I grabbed my stuff and left the job site, with my mind racing, "What can I possibly do???"
Well, out of frustration and desperation, I went to the union hall just in CASE there might be a job open. My jaw hit the floor as I climbed the stairs, rounding the corner from the stairwell to see no less than 15 men sitting and waiting for work.
That is NOT what I wanted to see. I needed job and I needed one NOW.
I inquired with the business manager. "There ain't no work son, at least not now." "I'll take ANYTHING. I don't care what it is." "There just ain't no work." I sat down, for lack of a better plan. After twenty minutes the phone rang and the old man came up to the desk. He looked at me. "Young man, commere." I leaned over close as he motioned for me to get closer. "Do you REALLY wanat to work?" Oh yes sir, you bet I do." "Alls I have is two positions down at the river." Without hesitation I said, "I'll take it. When can I start?" "You sure you want that job?" Yes sir. Where do I sign?" I signed the papers since NO ONE in their right mind wanted to work on the dam site on the Arkansas River in the middle of winter.
Because no one else wanted that kind of work (hard, cold, muddy, cold, rigorus, cold, exhausting (and did I mention cold?) work, I got the nod. "Report tomorrow, son." "You bet!" With that exchange, I was out the door and headed to 2nd and Broadway like a blur.
I signed the papers and the Pontiac was mine. I remember waiting in the salesmans office for paperwork and two older gentlemen said, "Man, that convertible is the finest car on the lot. I sure wish I could justify buying it.
Before I knew it, I was behind the wheel, and headed to Benton. I was in HIGH COTTON, SON!!! I got home. It was not soon after I arrived that Daddy came in. I watched him admire the vehicle and then come into the house.
After some initial conversation he got to the heart of the matter. "Son, now you will learn what debt is all about. I can help you with the insurance, but the car payments are strictly up to you. If you can't make them, they will come and get it...and I can't help you. You understand that?" "Yes sir. You've helped all you could already."
At the dinner table I told him and Momma what had happened earlier that day and watched relief come across their faces as I informed then that their newly indebted son was gainfully employed. Daddy about had a fit when he found out that I was working on the river. "Boy, you're gonna earn that car in spades."
I did work hard. It was the hardest job I ever had--EVER. We would pour concrete and have to put visqueen over it about 2' high and string 300 watt light bulbs over the concrete to keep it from freezing. I became a welder/carpenter's apprentice. I had to carry welding cables through mud that was most always 4-8 inches deep from the tool rooms to the job site. But I worked that job until I was finally laid off.
It was not long after that that I got me a pud job working at McCain mall. And soon after that I went into the Navy.
What a car! I'll have to post a photo someday, whenever I find it. I worked in the cold, slicing, nubbing winds--in the mud and muck of the Arkansas, but let me tell you what. Whenever I got home on Friday evenings, a TRANSFORMATION took place. I washed that car and my little ole' self and splashed on a little Old English and off I went, riding high all week-end. I was still single when I first bought the car.
Those week-ends were all too short, as they are now. But back then, come Monday morning, it was back to the ragged, heavy work cloths, to the toil and drudgery of another week of heavy labor.
Once in a while I'd get annoyed at the job, but then I'd remember the REAL wood dash, the neat am radio, the AC, and the motorized top. I'd grin and then get back to work.
With .25 a gallon gas, life was truly grand in Saline County, growing up in the late '60s.
Epilogue
The last time I saw the Old Pontiac was on the car lot of the Volkswagon dealer in San Diego. She was but a shell of her former glory. She barely made it to Mission Valley and when I turned off the engine, I prayed that I would not be asked to start it again. I didn't know if it would or not. As it turned out, I didn't have to.
I was scheduled to go overseas and my wife of just over a year had never driven on a freeway ever. And now she had to drive to Arkansas by herself. I knew the car wouldn't make it across town. So we bought a brand new 1969 Volkswagen Beetle for $1,875.00, on credit, of course.
The old convertible served it's purpose though. We would have kept it a while longer had the mechanic not put detergent oil in it and loosed the rings prematurely, two days before we left for California. But such are the breaks, and fodder for another story.
Thanks for coming along. By the way, the Beetle wasn't so snazzy looking, but you just can't beat that 'new car' smell. <img src="/metal/html/lol.gif" border=0 width=15 height=15 alt=":lol">
Arkie John
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