THE HEAT GOES ON... August (Part 163m)

THE HEAT GOES ON… August (Part 163m)

If ever there was a group who shouldn’t own a race car, it was us. We’d reached the point where we were in sort of a trap. The only way we could be competitive enough to even think about a top three finish was to have three new tires on the car. That cost was just under $300, an amount that was totally out of reach for us. Cliffy and Alan had come up with a plan that would keep us racing, barring a wreck of motor problems, and it was predicated on us finishing in, or near, the top ten. Tenth place paid $100 so with that money we could buy one new tire a week and reuse the least worn of the older tires. The ‘hole’ in that plan was that we were just marginally competitive and it meant the highest we could reasonably expect to finish was tenth. It was like we were locked in. As I previously wrote, I was reluctant to jump in and save the day (or night, as it was) and become the ‘bank’. Alan and I were the only ones who had been regularly adding money to the ‘pot’ although Cliffy was having money deducted from his pay to pay down the bill we’d run up with his father for ‘incidentals’ like gas, gear oil, grease and various nuts and bolts. Dick had promised money once his crops started to be harvested but that was weeks away. So, by the time we headed home that night nothing had been resolved about added dollars for the weekly racing.

Alan and I’d taken to drag racing on a stretch of road that led to our homes. He had a 390 cubic inch Ford and I had a 327 cubic inch Chevy. It was almost sadistic pleasure that I got from beating him. On this night we had a side bet. He was sure that if we raced for a longer distance he could beat me. The bet was for $5. In any case I was ahead when we passed the road that usually ended one of our races. He was clearly behind me when we passed that road. Then, he started inching up on me and, to this day I still believe I was in front when we reached the next road. I’ll admit that it was mighty close. When we pulled up and stopped both our cars were smoking. I knew the reason for mine… the hydraulic lifters had started to ‘float’. For Alan… we didn’t know but it was not a good sign. I gave in and gave him the $5 pretty much knowing it was going to cost him a whole lot more than that.

Early Saturday morning was spent doing normal chores. Then it was off to the church. I’d not been attending the Vestry (the governing body) meetings and at the last one the rest of the group voted to open a “Thrift Shoppe” in the undercroft (basement). This had been presented just before Phyllis made her offer/request to hold her day care there. I’d been against that telling them the rent she would pay wouldn’t cover the overhead costs of her occupying the space. I’d been right but never played the “I told you so” card. The thrift shop wouldn’t take much to run as it would only be open on Saturdays and would be manned by volunteers. Upon hearing of the plan I offered to help set it up and that’s what I did right up until the time to go racing. The only problem with the thrift shop was it would preclude the “Meet & Greet” coffee hour that followed the second Sunday service. But, that was their problem.

All I have in my notes for the car racing that Saturday night was “Same ole, same ole” which probably meant that we finished in the middle of the pack. The notes for Sunday and the boat racing are similar with exception I noted that Elle had won again. Notes for the beginning of the week at work were non existent and I have no memory why. The first notation I found was one that Stan, my stock broker, had called to remind me about his party. I remember being conflicted about attending. Friday was the last day of work for me before Elle and I were off to Bermuda. We were leaving the following Tuesday, the day after Labor Day and I had to get everything done around the house and at church before we left. I definitely wanted to go to the car races since I’d miss the last night and, on top of all that was Sunday, the last day of sailing races that would determine the champions of each division. Stan’s party was on Labor Day afternoon which meant it was ‘doable’ but with difficulty. Elle was also invited which didn’t excite her in the least. So, leaving work that Friday night I wondered if I was going to get it all done.

Again, I have no idea why I don’t have notes. I have no memory of the car races. As for sailing, nothing for the Sunday races but I have pictures of the trophy presentations that night and they show Elle getting first place for the women and me getting third place (I also still have the trophies). I also have pictures of the early birthday party that was held for our fathers since we’d be away on the actual dates. They don’t show anything that would remind me of anything interesting that might’ve happened though.

When I selected the dates for us to go to Bermuda it was to take advantage of the lower Summer prices in effect. As the departure came closer it became more apparent that I’d not done all my ‘homework’. It was the first week of school and Elle’s mother would be taking care of the kids. That meant Elle would have to pack up clothes for them for both school and for play so she used that as the excuse not to go. Needless to say she was not all that happy with me going off and leaving her to do all that packing. I’d told her that it was really important for me to go and I’d based that on something Lynda had told me. She said that I was one of only a handful of his clients who’d been invited. He’d steered me right on some of my stock purchases and I wanted to stay on the ‘right’ side with him. As I left the house I knew I still had to finish our Bermuda packing. Almost everything that we might want/need had been laid out on the dining room table and all I had to do was get it into our luggage. In leaving I promised I’d be back by 6pm.

Stan’s place was incredible. I’d seen what I’d called mansions from a distance but when I drove up to the house I knew this one was real. Here I was, driving up to this elegant home in a 1962 Chevrolet 2 door, with Cadillacs, and Lincolns lining the driveway. Talk about intimidation!. The party was out behind the house where there was a swimming pool, bath house, two gazebos and about 50 to 60 people. Someone pointed me towards where Stan was seated and, in spite of what I had to assume were very rich and probably influential people, he appeared to be glad to see me. I was introduced to some who were near him but I was so nervous I didn’t get their names or affiliations. He recognized how uneasy I was and pointed me towards where Lynda was. I’ve mentioned, a few times, how attractive she was… tall with long blond hair. But, this was the first time I got to see her wearing shorts and could get an idea of her ‘shape’ and it was impressive. When she saw me she left the people she was with and headed my way. I really didn’t want the attention but she walked up and gave me a hug. That was totally unexpected. Even with her leading me around I felt like I was out of place and, using the need to get packed for the trip, left early. All in all I was glad I went but I truly didn’t enjoy myself.

To be continued…