So yesterday I had a great late lunch with friends, which came with a single Tito's martini. Afterwards, I found myself stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, with BB King's Blues station blaring on my radio in the man-sized Caddy SUV, and I was suffused with happiness.
I had, as Chuck Berry sang, no particular place to go, other than home, and there were no evening plans. Indeed, I found Wifey when I returned, in her recliner, busily typing on her phone, on her TCM page. She has become quite the film noir poster -- a post about Cary Grant got nearly 20K "likes." I told her soon she might monetize her talents, but she points out that she already brings in Social Security, so why?
Anyway, in that slow moving vehicle, I was brought back in my mind over 40 years -- listening to the radio in my college car, which was really the high school car my parents bought me. I was lucky then, as I remain -- when I came around, my Dad was earning a terrific salary as a salesman, and worked a single job, as opposed the the 3, then 2 gigs he had when my sisters were young.
When I was 16, I guess he really dug me, and brought me to buy my first car: a 1978 Pontiac Firebird Esprit. It was "Carmine," a blood red, with white vinyl seats which I realized in the Summer at drive in movies had certain draw backs, but oh I loved that car. And it had a good stereo, with speakers in the rear, and an 8 track player, too.
When I would drive it to and from Delray Beach, from UM, visiting my parents, there was nothing better than blasting music as I cruised up the Turnpike. Yesterday I saw that the joy still remains.
I had that Firebird through half of law school. The Summer of '84, as I was driving home from Wifey's apartment in North Miami, where she had moved to get away from me in Kendall before realizing the error of her ways and taking me back (Ha!), I was heading back to a night class in Coral Gables. At the intersection of NE 135th Street and West Dixie, a young woman ran the light, and we hit head on. Luckily no one was hurt, but the Firebird was.
The insurance company gave me a Dodge Omni for several weeks while they fixed my Pontiac, but the car was never the same. It drove like a truck -- bounced all over. My Mom was ready to replace her '82 Buick Century with an '85 Buick Century, and so she gave me that gray box of a car, and I sold the Pontiac, giving her the proceeds. Some muscle car restore -type guy bought it. I think the car cost $6500 new, and I got about $2500 from the buyer. Funny how prices were in the mid-80s.
That gray Buick was the source of humor. It may have been among the most ugly, soulless cars GM ever built. I was still driving it when I had my second lawyer job. Our friend Elizabeth and Pat the rock singer visited -- they were living the high life with souped up BMWs already, and Elizabeth asked me "Oh -- is this like a company car your firm provides?"
Nah -- it was all mine, every boring part of it. From the Buick I moved up to a Mazda 626 -- not much hipper than the Buick, but a better made car.
Anyway, I recall well how happy I was then. D1 was a baby, and I was supporting us both on my $45k per year salary. Between the mortgage, student loans, and all other expenses, there was no extra money, but we were so blessed.
And a joy was always, for me, blasting music in the car.
Fast forward, and it still is. The Torah defines a wealthy man as he who is happy with his lot. Dr. Barry, much more of a Talmudic scholar than I , knows the Hebrew term for this -- it was his 8th grade subject in Yeshiva in Queens.
So yeah -- got a LOT more stuff now. Bigger house. Wifey drives a perfectly serviceable 7 year old Lexus SUV -- I just looked the other day -- it has 33k miles on it, which for a Lexus is nothing.
I have the comfortable, man sized Caddy SUV -- I get in and out of it like a king. And I have the satellite radio.
And yesterday, as I crawled home in Miami traffic, and a Robert Cray song came on where he sings about creating a romantic evening for his lover, with dinner and candles, but she doesn't show, because he must have "slipped her mind," well, I was a modern day Rockefeller.
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