high weir

October 31, 2008

Car Tipping

Filed under: Uncategorized — jstreed1476 @ 1:32 am

My first real job was as a stockboy at the Coralville K-Mart. The best thing about it–apart from getting paid in cash (no kidding)–was the chance to befriend the oddballs working there.

Danny wore a necktie shaped like a fish at least once a week. He was in his mid-thirties, at least. We called him Danny Fishtie.

Claudia the assistant manager remains the only 55-year-old female figure-eight-track driver I’ve ever known.

Mr DeHart the manager answered bargain hunters with offers of a higher price.

I especially liked getting on Scott’s good side. He was a chain-smoking mulletted guy who patroled the farthest reaches of the West High parking lot with a tribe of scary metalhead roughs. I was terrified the first day I saw him in the stockroom because I was sure he’d spot me as the kid he threatened to beat up the year before in the Old Capital Mall’s Aladdin’s Castle. (I accidentally budged ahead of him en route to Spy Hunter.) But he didn’t recognize me. And he was actually a pretty nice guy.

Once he gave me a ride home in his terrifying Dodge Dart. No seatbelts, missing window, trunk held shut with a clothes hanger threaded through what looked like a bullet hole. Beer cans rolling around. We roared down quiet Coralville streets at about 75 miles per hour. It was way more frightening than any taxi ride I’ve ever endured.

At one point, he offered to sell me the Dart for a hundred bucks. I really, really wanted to buy it. For a week, some buddies and I cooked up plans like chopping off the roof to make it a convertible. We also thought it would be fun to have for the sole purpose of wrecking it. Not far from my grandparents’ house, in a trench worn deep by rain, a half dozen cars were piled every which way. Passing hunters peppered them with shotgun blasts. At the time, that seemed like a fitting end to the Dart.

But it never went further than lunchtable planning. I knew my parents would veto the purchase, and the last thing I wanted was to wind up asking Scott to take his car back. (If that had come to pass, I’d’ve let the money thing drop, as demanding it back would’ve been out of the question.)

I thought of all this when I read this highly entertaining account of a guy and his friends tipping a car that he didn’t have any use for. 

I eventually told Scott about the Aladdin’s Castle incident. He laughed and claimed that he didn’t remember it at all. “I was probably drunk,” he said.


1 Comment »

  1. late comment. nothing really salient to add. nice post

    Comment by Sean Meade — November 12, 2008 @ 9:50 pm

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