Band camp never happened because I flunked out on the tonette (recorder).... I did buy me a cheapy acoustic guitar... learned me some chords.... trusty tape recorder by my side, pressed play... strummed and hummed (sang)....... played it back. NOPE. In the music class of life, I'd be the last one picked if we ever chose up sides......
Tune ups. Excuse me for a moment (Victor, did you fart?) No, but howinthehell would you ever know if I did? I am biased, but, my father was quite the card. He, of late 20-something, and my ma' were at my grandparents (her folks)... Mom had purchased a pair of pants for dad that were a tad too long. The long and short of it, my father was short. Not only is the 'dunk a basketball' outta play, I don't think he could even touch the net. Anyways..... My Granny was needle and thread handy... TBC, paragraph too damn long.
So, Granny went to the sewing room (I assume the SheShed 1940-something equivalent, and took the hems up. Upon completion, father, he of funny-ha-ha, took the pants into the bathroom... purposedly hiked the hem of one leg up under about 4 inches or so... then walked out into the living room saying nary' a word. Granny was startled, mebbe even apologetic I dunno... it was early in dad and mom's life together, I just don't think she knew him that well yet. He laughed, let the pants leg out, for life, she'd kinda raise one eyebrow, ciphering him, what he said for the rest of her days.
Bid and Buy Auto Sales.... Also, 'Band Camp' one-time stuff.... My mother, age 56, had a massive stroke. My father was a traveling salesman virtually his entire life. Victor, don't bore us with what he sold....... Too late. He sold keychains, books (ncluding Funk and Wagnall) , Green Stamps, Plaid Stamps, Jerry Lewis Cinema's, Art Prints, you name it, he peddled it, he abhored Interstates and did the two lane highway thing going to intimate, "people towns." TBC........
Mom's stroke changed things. Dad got off the road that day... Plan B was get "D tags". fix up old clunkers to resell from our alleyway, and, Bid and Buy Auto Sales was born, allowed him to make'a buck, cook, clean, and go to Safeway in his favorite work slacks (they fit) complete with body putty, paint spray, oil, grease, and the kicker was an extra large paper clip which served to raise and lower his zipper once that thingy broke off. I can still hear mom to this day, "PLEASE don't wear those to Safeway!" Dad loved her like crazy, but, he'd smile, hop in the car, and go get groceries (in those slacks).....
I couldn't tell you a carburetor from fuel injector, a starter from an alternator, ie, I couldn't touch the net, nor, play the tonette of auto mechanics. Dad fervently went to the Dewey Decimal System Library to get it right each and every time, and fixed cars, BY THE BOOK. That's all bullshit. Dad tried this, and tried that, and eventually, his cars would run. Some, better than others.
Back to band camp. I could be confused. This mighta happened back in those same 1940-something days, but I just know this, it happened. He fixed the steering column, or whatever it was, shaft, gearbox, rack and (O)pinion. The car had broken down ten miles from home. "All good" as he dusted off his hands, threw a little Goop on them, pulled up his paper clip............. started the car, headed home. TBC
One slight problem. He'd hooked something up bassackward. When he turned the wheel to go LEFT, it went RIGHT... and obviously, VICE VERSA. Had mom been in the passenger seat, pretty sure she coulda "Honey. you're gonna get us both killed, please pull over now and see if you can fix it." He prolly woulda, but, she wasn't there, dad was of German descent (hardheaded, and yes, it's hereditary)..always up for a challenge.. .so off he went, left and right, er, I mean right and left.. or something of the combined. Somehow, he proudly made it to the alleyway. TBC
As a punk kid, I'd heard him tell that story so many times I grew tired of it. I'd give everything I got in savings (which ain't much) to hear it from him one more time.
VICTURD (as your father called you)......... is there a method to all this madness?
Yes, it all equated to life. Some things we just ain't very good at, and that's OK. Some know a lot about a lot. Some know a little about a lot. Some, made C's and M's because they spent more time out having fun, chasing chickies, being with buddies.
Pants don't always fit. Zippers break. It's not the outfit that brings happiness nor makes the man, or, attitude toward happiness.
Of course - relationships. While my own relationships were certainly outlasted - my folks, both, taught me BOO KOO about life, love and loyalty.
And lastly, sometimes shit happens. We go left when we shoulda gone right, and, sometimes friends, family, loved ones do as well.. In the car lot of life - ya never, just never, are really sure what's under the hood. Things don't always go the way we plan. Sometimes it's shocking (people, places, 'friends') and can be hurtful.
What really then, can we depend on?
That's where the Good Book comes in. Always.
Love, Victurd