Sometime shortly after I mustered out of the U.S. Navy… I found me suddenly in need of a car, a vehicle, a mode of transport, fuckin’ wheels. Never really havin’ given two shits ‘bout such, I found myself in front of a pawn shop in Honey Grove Texas early one morning. Too early, in fact.
But, I skip ahead (as is my wont)
Let us go back in time (just a few hours; be patient) I had fallen ‘in love’ with a woman (It happens) Got drunk one late night; decided I needed counsel (from Peanut—My Yoda—problem was, I was in Commerce, Texas and Yoda was in Honey Grove, miles and miles and styles away) What to do? Drive to see him on Endor. Jumped into my chariot and almost made it. Alas! A bar ditch jumped up in front of me. The car did not survive. Happily, I did, but now I had a real problem: Yoda was still miles away. Walked the two miles to HG and spied a vehicle “For Sale” Walked in to the pawn shop and inquired: “Yall take credit cards?” “No Son; we do not.” “Damn shame,” I said. “’Cause I wanna buy that car y’all got for sale out yonder. Well see ya.” “Wait! Wait! We can make an exception!” “OK, gas her up and get her ready.”
And the rest, as they say, was History.
P.S. This post was inspired by a memory my good friend Mark, over at
Memory fails, but I have pieced together something approaching honest fact. I lost my posh digs at Ponderosa Apartments, and was forced to down-size. Madelyn was living in the ‘Proper Garage Apartment’ and was ‘in good’ with the Landlord. She informed me he had this ‘wonderful little apartment’ for rent, which was ‘just perfect’ for me. Read CHEAP.
I checked it out, paid my fifty bucks and moved in. The moving in took all of two minutes, for I had not much to move.
Working for Ruth at her Liquor store in Ladonia and making a solid three dollars fifty cents an hour (plus ‘benefits), it was indeed, ‘perfect’ for me.
Now mind you, I never complained about living in such a place. After all, it did suit me and no one would have cared anyhow if it didn’t. It had some kind of ‘certain charm’ (just like this place) to be sure. How many folks could invite a guest into their home and lead them past the shitter before arriving into the living room/bedroom/kitchen/study proper? As far as I knew, I had the only such place in all of Commerce. It was special.
And truth be told, I did some ‘entertaining’ there a couple of times. The only person who I would invite over was my girlfriend. She never judged me. She was always happy to be with me, no matter the venue. (Yes, that sounds conceited, but there it is Gentle Reader—c’est vrai, or quel dommage, or… choose your own français).