A HAPPY HOMEOWNER... maybe, maybe not (Part 114f)

A HAPPY HOMEOWNER... maybe, maybe not (Part 114f)

For those of you who’ve been following this tome for a period of time you might remember that when I turned 25 years of age I was made aware that my grandfather had created trust funds for both me and my brother. After attaining age 25 we were able to use the income generated from the trust but the principal wouldn’t be available until we turned 30. I’d arranged for the bank who was administering the trust to mail me the income (from interest and dividends) each month. The amount varied from month to month but was usually around $75. It usually arrived about a week after the 1st of each month but, in February, it hadn’t arrived and it was well into the second week. It doesn’t sound like much today but in 1966 it was. I hadn’t talked to the bank who administered the trust since singing the papers after my 25th birthday so didn’t have a specific person to talk with. After a bit of a runaround I finally got someone to help me. Long story short... they were in the process of changing internal systems and, evidently, my account got ”swallowed up“. The man promised to track my check down and get back to me. Just before I left work he called and told me that he had personally cut the check and put it in the mail drop. That gave me some relief but what he told me right after that pretty much made my day.

He had tracked down the trust agreement to make sure they (that bank) were following the instructions properly. He asked me if I was aware that once I turned 29 I would be able to borrow against the trust. That pretty much floored me. Nothing had ever been mentioned to me and of that I was sure. He went on to explain that I would be allowed to borrow up to 5% of the total value of the trust each three months. I did a quick calculation in my mind and it would be more than enough to cover what I owed. The only thing was that I would have to wait two months for my birthday. I thanked him and asked for him to send the necessary paperwork. It was a load off my mind to have that knowledge but I needed money now.

I haven’t mentioned the race car in quite a while. That’s because I really hadn’t done anything on or with it since I bought the house. Ferd, the man who’d been helping me repair it, called me at the bank and told me I had to get the car moved as he need the space at his house. Everything he could do had been done but the car still needed a front axle. I’d located one but it was going to cost money and, with money so tight, I just ignored the situation. I truly felt guilty when the check came from the trust and I cashed it to pay for the axle. It cost $25 which left me with about $55. The second problem was in telling Elle that I was going to work on the car and not work on the house. It made for a ”chilly“ weekend.

Ferd helped me with installing the front end so I was able to tow the car home. When Elle saw it in the driveway she was beside herself. I tried to appease her telling her that I could probably sell it for over $300 come racing season but she was still mad. It had been a case of ”Out of sight, out of mind“ for her and seeing the car was like a red flag to a bull.

That Sunday morning we woke up early to find the house was somewhat cold. I went down to the basement to find the oil burner wasn’t working. I didn’t have a clue as to what to do or who to call. It had been running when we moved in and other than to adjust the temperature I hadn’t paid any attention to it. Another long story short... I called John, the farmer neighbor, and he came right over. He asked one simple question... ”Do you have any fuel oil in the tank?“ I didn’t even know how to find out. After we found a rod long enough to ”stick“ the tank the answer was clear. No oil!

He invited all of us over to his house. Kathleen was a bit overwhelmed as she was still in her bathrobe when we all arrived. She was very gracious, actually providing breakfast for Elle and the kids. I noticed that she only had a sash to hold it closed and as she darted about I was able to see a bit of what I presumed to be her panties. However, my focus was on getting oil. John made a few phone calls and was able to get the company who provided his oil to come out and make a small delivery even though it was a Sunday. However, my trials and tribulations weren’t over. When we tried to start the burner up it just wouldn’t stay lit. That’s when my experience with the kerosene furnace in the mobile home came in handy. I remembered that when I’d waited too long to fill the tank I’d end up having to change the filter. That was the problem only I didn’t have a new one to replace the old one. I took a chance without one anyway and got it fired up. My neighbor had come through again.

When John and I left to go get Elle and the kids I suddenly realized that I was going to have to get more oil and, more importantly, pay for it. The only good thing was that Elle had gotten over her ”mad“. I was pretty much on pins and needles about the oil burner for the rest of the day because if some debris got into the ”gun“ I would be back in the same position I was when we woke up with and no recourse. Elle’s father bailed us out the next day and ordered some oil to be delivered and put on his bill. At work I waited for a call from Elle to tell me that it was getting cold again. Thankfully, it didn’t come.

To be continued...