HEADING FOR SUMMER... and whatever it brings (Part 160c)

HEADING FOR SUMMER… and whatever it brings (Part 160c)

After a tumultuous day I was looking forward to going to the garage to work on the race car. It was my feeling that things there would be relatively quiet. I was wrong! The hauler and car were just as Cliffy had left them upon return from the races early Sunday morning. All the guys were there except for Joe. Cliffy was sitting on the hauler bed and the look on his face was more serious than usual. His greeting to me was to ask if I’d brought my $25. I hadn’t but I didn’t know I was supposed to bring it before heading for the track. We’ve all heard the term “buyer’s remorse”. It was obvious (to me, at least) that Cliffy had it. It was his position that he wanted to see a definite monetary commitment from the others before we opened the crate that held the new rear end. Once we cut the metal straps it belonged to us. Needless to say, a discussion ensued.

Basically, to continue racing we needed the rear end… but we didn’t have the money. He told us we had a little over $340 in cash and we’d each pledged $25 making a total of $465. He told us he’d called “Pee Wee” and the cost, including a couple of sets of gears, was $480. The problem was that if we paid “Pee Wee” in full (which he wanted to do) we didn’t have money for tires. We could get by for one week with the tires on the car but that would be it. Listening to him it became clear that we’d not thought the ownership of a race car through. We’d been somewhat blinded by the fact that we could buy a race car worth approximately $3,000 for only $1,000… and not carried it forward to figure out how we were going to keep it running.

It was dark by the time we’d (reluctantly) decided to not open the crate. We all wanted to race but Cliffy said he wouldn’t/couldn’t be the one to fund it. It would be up to us to come up with money to continue. Until we did, the hauler, race car and rear end would remain parked. Knowing how ‘tight’ things were for all of the others I left thinking that was the end of my NASCAR racing.

Those negative feelings on top of the ‘Jerry situation’ at work meant a restless night for sleeping. I didn’t have any idea what the meeting with Hobie and Jerry would bring forth. I’d called the restaurant where Jerry held the interviews but was unable to reach anyone who knew anything about it but had left a message. That meant I had nothing to report during the meeting and I worried about that. The other thing on my mind was the now missing Xerox photo copier. I felt at least I could make a call on that subject before the meeting and get an answer. I did… and I didn’t like it. Kelcy, the Xerox sales rep, in her hurry to get to her next appointment, had written the wrong town on the order form. I’d not looked at that when perusing the contract so, in essence, it was my fault. I was told our machine would arrive no later than Friday… too late for the mortgage committee meeting. I was getting the feeling that if I had my fingers in it nothing good would come of it.

When Hobie arrived he led Jerry and I up the back stairs to the Board room. I’d thought it was to be just the three of us but there were a number of Board members waiting for us. In making my calls about the Xerox machine I’d missed their arrival(s). I knew them by name but little about their backgrounds. Bert (the president) was there and he introduced the vice chairman who was filling in for the ailing Board chairman. It was obvious that this was more than just a casual meeting to sort things out.

The meeting lasted about three quarters of an hour. When we all walked out it was understood that Jerry was to clear any actions he was undertaking for the bank through me and, in my absence, Hobie. If neither of us were available he was to take no action. The woman Jerry had hired as his assistant would be subject to confirmation by the branch committee after meeting her the following day. Nothing was mentioned about salary and I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. Going down the back stairs I felt somewhat vindicated in my assessment of Jerry but still wondered who it was that had been ‘guiding’ him. From that time on he was, as Hobie had put it the day before, “on a short leash” and I held the other end of it.

As good as I felt about that I was greeted with the news that four service people from Northern Telecom were there to start installation of our new equipment. I could only shake my head wondering if there was any company, at all, who could get their ‘act’ straight. Having them there without giving the employees warning just made things more difficult and made me look bad. I immediately called Norman, the sales rep, to ask what had changed since our conversation the previous day. He didn’t have any idea that the men were there. He told me he had the orders in his hand and they weren’t supposed to start until Thursday. He told me he could pull them back but I said it was OK to stay. At least the people who were complaining about the old PBX board would be happy.

As I put the handset back in the cradle I saw Trish waving her hand with her handset in it. I immediately picked up my phone and heard the words “Red shoes!”. I had no idea who it was or the meaning of those words. I could write a whole post on this subject (but I won’t). It was the owner of the restaurant where Jerry held his interviews. He identified himself and asked how my parents were doing. That was the trigger. Some 20 years earlier my parents had met and been befriended by the man. I was about 10 years old but my interest in race horses was just beginning at that time. My father mentioned it to the man and he promptly handed me a racing sheet and told me to pick him out a winning horse. I picked one called Red Shoes. It didn’t mean all that much to me but what had happened was he went ahead and bet it… and it won. From that time on anytime we stopped at the restaurant I was greeted by hearing about “Red Shoes”. In any case, he’d seen the message from me and since I have the same name as my father, he recognized it and made the call himself rather than giving it to an underling. Someone, seeing the sheaf of papers, had taken them to the office and was going to mail them back… until the owner saw the note on them and my name. It was good to talk to the man and to reminisce. But most important was to know he had the applications and that we’d be getting them back in a few days. It gave me hope that things were beginning to turn around for the better.

To be continued…