Friday, October 3, 2008

I remember when we were kids, most of us didn't buy cars. We waited patiently for our parents to buy themselves new cars. We took the hand-me-downs and drove them into the ground. I had my mom's old Ford Torino wagon. One friend drove his dad's old Granada, and another his dad's Chevette. We identified ourselves and each other by what we drove, even though what we drove was almost as random as DNA .... I had this one friend, his name was Marc. He was the only one of us guys to buy his own car. He drove a Ford Maverick. Marc's Maverick was basically held together by rust, and was a brown lemon. But he had bought it himself out of the newspaper and saw saw himself as a Maverick for going out on his own to get his wheels. He was totally proud of it and blind to the fact that it was a piece of shit.

Once I was going to DC to visit some friends. Marc said he wanted to go. "We can take the Maverick!" he offered. I didn't really want the company, but being cheap, how could I turn down a free ride. Anyway the Maverick died on the highway on the way down there. We had stopped to pee on the shoulder of the road. For some reason Marc had turned off the engine and it never started again.  We got it towed and spent a hot sticky night sleeping in the parking lot of a gas station, somewhere  in Southern New Jersey, waiting for the sad prognosis.
Marc had a bottle of Rye in the trunk of the Maverick, which had been cooked all day in the hot sun. We mix it with cold cans of Pepsi out of the soda machine, but the drinks never got cold. We drank them anyway, and spent most of the night puking behind a dumpster.
I never made it down to DC that weekend.  I missed out on what probably was a hell of a weekend... I went on to live in a city were nobody really cares what car you drive.
Marc's next car was a Red Capri. 

I don't know what this story has to do with anything, but after watching the debate last night and hearing Sarah Palen call herself and McCain a couple of Mavericks, over and over again, all I can say is God help us if McCain gets elected, and God help us even more if he does, 
and never gets his old rusty-ass back to DC. He may be a Maverick, but he's as old as my father-in-law. She may be easier to look at than Dick Cheney, but she is no less scary.

David Kramer


Bj in Dallas said...

Ok, I jumped in the pool!!!
Lv told me to visit, and I always do what i'm told...if i want to.

The maverick analogy is great, and you are right, if McCain gets elected, we are all going to be puking behind a dumpster. But it will be one we paid for I'm sure, and maybe Sarah Palin will hold our hair. I would actually like it to be located in her yard in Alaska, because as we puke, we will at least be able to see Russia.
Bj in Dallas
oh shit a word verification, glad I'm sober

PearlsOfSomething said...

I do as mud tells me, and I'm glad that I have.

My father drove a Maverick. He told us kids that those rust spots were bullet holes. Funny how, years later, my mother would own a sticker that said "I still miss my ex, but my aim is improving."

"The Maverick" definitely does remind me of the Maverick. I just didn't know it until you told me.

And I love your blog name.

Lorrie Veasey said...

I hope the fact that you posted this at 5:47 in the morning means you hadn't yet gone to bed because you were doing something fun: like looking up reruns on YouTube of James Garner's The Maverick which you would later claim was "research" for this piece. I hope you weren't plagued like the rest of us by Palin induced insomnia. Global Warming is looking pretty good right about now, I'd say.

So since I have appointed myself your official blog pimp, you need to change your template so that there is no word verification and also go to a pop up screen for comments--I will show you how tonight, grasshopper.

timinhi said...

Hi David--
Enjoying your blog. Glad your liver is better. I completely understand how shocking those "close brushes" are to your former sense of immortality.
My highschool friend Kevin drove a Maverick that his parents passed down to him. It was in pristine condition, wasn't too old, and he took meticulous care of it. Still, it was grossly underpowered. It felt like its engine was a wound-up rubberband, and it had so little pickup that it always felt like we were taking our lives into our hands whenever he made a left turn onto a busy highway where the crosstraffic had no stop. It looked sporty, but drove like Grandma's model T. My other buddies & I relentlessly ridiculed that car.
I'm not a fan of Obama's, but I dislike McCain/Palin even more. McCain's creepy, and Sarah is just plain scary. I was amazed that when she winked at the camera during last night's debate, she wasn't ridiculed as much as Kevin's Maverick was all those years ago.
I hope You, Sooz & Martin are all doing well, despite the liver thing. Say "hi" to Sooz from Lynne, Billy, Danny & I.

david kramer said...

Nice to hear from you and I hope your health is good...
I am affraid that McCain has a rubber band running his engine too. And it's old and stretched out.
I hate to make fun of people for being old, but he is old and creepy.
All the best, DK

kip said...

Nothing to do with McCain, but we had both a Granada and a Maverick when i was a kid. Those along with a silver and black Pontiac of unmemorable model name were wrecked by my brother. He is the only Republican in the family.

RobRubin said...

Hi Kramer,

Excellent post. However, as someone who had spent many white-knuckled hours in all of the cars you mentioned, I need to tell you that Marc's first car was a used, rusty, smelly and dangerous Ford Pinto and he loved that car. He inherited his Dad's Chrysler Cordoba and donated the Pinto to the high school auto body shop.