Vignettes: Roll Me Away

 

I bid farewell to my RAV4, my vehicle of the last 28 years, earlier this morning.

It was a 1999 Toyota RAV4. I purchased it in late November 1998, and picked it up two days before Thanksgiving. This was my first - well, really, only - major purchase after earning my technical writing certificate three years previously. 

Before that I had driven a series of used cars kindly passed down to me by several relatives. For a reminiscence about my favorite, and one memorable afternoon when my friends T & B decided to make some, er, "improvements," read on.

 My favorite of these vehicles was probably the 1972 Chevy Chevelle, a car not even an atom bomb could kill. (It was hit twice - while parked - and the other vehicle took the brunt of the damage in both instances.) For 

My friends T and B, er, "acquired" a car stereo for me as a combination present for my 18th birthday and  high school graduation. I still remember my father, the police officer, bemusedly examining the stereo, no doubt recalling their earlier shenanigans.

"I can't help but notice that there's no box, guys," he said. 

"Uh, yeah, Mr, M, that's because we got it on sale," said T, B nodding in solemn agreement. 

"Is that why the serial number seems to have been burned off?" he asked.

"Oh, is it?" said B, trying and failing to look innocent. "T, didn't you check that?"

"Uh, I guess I forgot," said T.

My father shook his head. "You two are just lucky I'm off duty."

(Years later B bought a house that straddled the line between my hometown and the city next door. When my mother and father came to visit the day we helped B and his wife Z move in, B joked that my father now worked for him. "True," replied my father. "Of course, it also means that now you're in my jurisdiction." 🙂)

Things only got better when T made a unilateral decision to install the stereo by himself one afternoon. My father's friend G, an electrician, was going to install it that evening before a cookout, but T wanted to surprise everyone. Which he did - just not the way he expected.

I was at my job in the local hospital kitchen, nearing the end of my 5:30 AM-3:00 PM shift, when my sister C showed up with B, both looking concerned.

"What's up, guys?" I asked.

"T is trying to install the car stereo," B said. 

"I don't think it's going well," added C.

"I'm sure it's fine," I said. "Why do you think he's having trouble?"

"Well, he's swearing a lot more than usual," she said. 

"And when we left he said he was going home to look for a two by four," added B.

"Time to call Dad," I said to C with a sigh, heading for the phone.

As I approached my house a half-hour later I could see a crowd gathered around the Chevelle, including T, B, C, my father, G, my Uncle A, an engineer at Raytheon who later helped design the Patriot and Sidewinder missiles, and assorted neighborhood fathers. 

"Well, this is not good," I thought to myself. 

G and Uncle A were working intently under the dashboard, engrossed in converation. My father stood off to the side, trying - and failing - to surpress a grin.

"B, could you try turning on the radio again?" G asked my father.

"Sure," he said, reaching in and flipping it on.

The car engine roared to life - without the key being in the ignition.

"OK, I guess we can scratch that theory," said my Uncle A, ever diplomatic.

"I have an idea," said T. "We could - "

"I'd keep your theories to yourself, numbnuts," said B. "You're lucky the car hasn't blown up."

"Give it a chance," said my father. "The day is still young." 

"Good one, Mr. M," said B, laughing along with my sister and the neighborhood dads. G & Uncle A tried to look solemn.

G & Uncle A spent several minutes fiddling with various wires, then asked my father to try the radio again. 

The keys were in the ignition, the emergency brake set, just in case.

"Here we go," he said, turning it on. 

The engine, mercifully, stayed quiet. The windshield wipers, unfortunately, did not, giving everyone in the vicinity a thorough soaking.

"We might need you to call in a missile strike on this thing, A," said G, wiping off his glasses.

"Or a car bomb," my father suggested. "Unless it takes care of the job itself first."

"OK, what would everyone like?" asked my mother from the front porch (discreetly out of range of the possibility of an involuntary shower). "We're about to start the grill."

"I can take care of that, Mrs. M," said T, heading for the back yard.

"No!!!" shouted everyone in unison.

"I can start it, Mrs. M," said B. "And I won't even need a two by four."

"Thank you, B," said my mother. "T, why don't you help me make the salad?"

"Remember - no sharp utensils for T,” said my father.

Eventually, G and Uncle A were able to restore my Chevelle to proper working order, once again needing a key to start and not inadvertently watering nearby lawns.

***

My RAV4, fortunately, never underwent any "improvements" from T. 🙂 It never caused me a moment's trouble in the 28 years I owned it, other than the usual wear and tear associated with a vehicle that age (and being hit six - yes, six - times, all but two of which were while it was parked, believe it or not.) 

And that, eventually, is what caught up with it. At its most recent inspection, the mechanics who performed the inspection said it needed over $2000 in repairs - substantially more than it was worth. I've used their garage for 15 years, so I knew they were telling it like it is.

My nephew C is currently in Colorado for the summer, working on his residency while finishing his PhD program. He generously loaded me his RAV4, while I donated mine to a veterans organization, so it worked out well for all involved. I'll miss mine, and can only hope my next vehicle serves me as well and as long. Farewell, old friend...

***

I cannot believe I only ever used a Bob Seger song once in a blog post, way back in 2011. I'll rectify that with several of my favorites of him, starting with "Roll Me Away," from his 1982 classic The Distance.

Next is the title track of his 1976 masterpiece Night Moves. The story of how this classic very nearly never saw the light of day is fascinating.

And last but not least is one of my favorite Seger songs, a deep cut from Night Moves:"Sunburst." Check out the flute solo:

I have most of my mega-post typed up, hopefully to be completed this weekend. Watch this space, and have a good day, everyone...