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Authors: Steven Adler
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back to Big Lilly’s, all four feet six inches of her.
Maybe it was because I had blown my last chance, burned all my bridges, and failed my family for the final time, but this banishment was the toughest to take (even though I pretended it was no big deal). For the first time I felt a distinct chill seep into my heart, an emotional vacuum that told me I would never be welcome back. No amount of time would heal this rift; forgiveness was no longer an option.
AS IS
S o there I was, back at my grandma’s. It was time to suck up to her big-time, because I realized there was no longer any safety net; she was the only thing between me and the streets. But when I looked at her serene smile, I realized it was all going to be fine. I could do no wrong in Big Lilly’s eyes and besides, she was in good spirits during this time. I guess it was because she hadn’t seen me in a while and, with her waning powers of recollection, had forgotten what a horror show I could be.
I decided I was going to make the most of her good mood. Within a month, by sucking up and doing small odd jobs around the house, I had bribed enough money out of her to buy my first car. It was a Chevy Corvair. It cost me $200, “as is.” Boy did I ever learn the meaning of “as is” in the classified ads the hard way. I bought it from some greaser dude in North Hollywood. He really did look like he combed his hair with axle grease.
I drove it out of the driveway and onto the road. I was smiling, planning to wheel by Saul and impress him with the new party wheels. I was already scamming on how to get enough money to stick in a decent sound system.
I made it about a block and a half down from the greaser’s place and the car caught on fire. I was so pissed, I got out and walked away. I just left it there burning in the street. It was my own eternal flame, a torch tribute to my stupidity. But I figured the people in the neighborhood knew who it belonged to, so let that asshole take care of it. That was one quick $200 wasted.
Out of the eternal goodness of her heart, Big Lilly took pity on me and gave me her old car, a blue ’75 Gremlin. The Gremlin was put out by American Motors and is one of the ugliest cars ever made. I used to think that American Motors only hired blind people for their design department. Otherwise, how else could you explain a car company that was responsible for freak shows like the Marlin, the Gremlin, the Matador, and that fishbowl on wheels, the Pacer? The Pacer was 90 percent glass. It was impossible to toke up in a Pacer. There was no place to duck behind if the police cruised by you. Hell, they could spot your roach clip in the ashtray.
Now, I have no idea why, but Big Lilly’s simple act of generosity got my whole family in an uproar. Everyone was against her giving the car to me. But what they really resented was that I was Big Lilly’s favorite. One day Mom’s brother, Uncle Artie, came over and ripped all the wiring out of the Gremlin because he was so pissed that she gave me the car. He must have done it at night, because when I went to start it up the next day, it was completely gutted.
Word soon circulated as to who the culprit (hero) was. And later, when I confronted him, he freely admitted it. This is just typical of the whacked-out relationships that ran through my entire family. So what the hell chance do I have to be normal when half my family was slaughtered by Nazis and the other half can’t bear to let anyone show the love?
But in the end it was totally cool because my grandma put all new wiring in it, and it ran even better than it did before. And that sucker could run. It had a stick shift and a six-cylinder engine that flew. I think it gave Grandma some pleasure to show that she couldn’t be bested.
Later, Saul spray-painted “Road Crew” on the side of the car. He used a cartoon he drew of a girl clenching a flower in her teeth, señorita style, while her boobs hung freely. Done in white paint, it
Maybe it was because I had blown my last chance, burned all my bridges, and failed my family for the final time, but this banishment was the toughest to take (even though I pretended it was no big deal). For the first time I felt a distinct chill seep into my heart, an emotional vacuum that told me I would never be welcome back. No amount of time would heal this rift; forgiveness was no longer an option.
AS IS
S o there I was, back at my grandma’s. It was time to suck up to her big-time, because I realized there was no longer any safety net; she was the only thing between me and the streets. But when I looked at her serene smile, I realized it was all going to be fine. I could do no wrong in Big Lilly’s eyes and besides, she was in good spirits during this time. I guess it was because she hadn’t seen me in a while and, with her waning powers of recollection, had forgotten what a horror show I could be.
I decided I was going to make the most of her good mood. Within a month, by sucking up and doing small odd jobs around the house, I had bribed enough money out of her to buy my first car. It was a Chevy Corvair. It cost me $200, “as is.” Boy did I ever learn the meaning of “as is” in the classified ads the hard way. I bought it from some greaser dude in North Hollywood. He really did look like he combed his hair with axle grease.
I drove it out of the driveway and onto the road. I was smiling, planning to wheel by Saul and impress him with the new party wheels. I was already scamming on how to get enough money to stick in a decent sound system.
I made it about a block and a half down from the greaser’s place and the car caught on fire. I was so pissed, I got out and walked away. I just left it there burning in the street. It was my own eternal flame, a torch tribute to my stupidity. But I figured the people in the neighborhood knew who it belonged to, so let that asshole take care of it. That was one quick $200 wasted.
Out of the eternal goodness of her heart, Big Lilly took pity on me and gave me her old car, a blue ’75 Gremlin. The Gremlin was put out by American Motors and is one of the ugliest cars ever made. I used to think that American Motors only hired blind people for their design department. Otherwise, how else could you explain a car company that was responsible for freak shows like the Marlin, the Gremlin, the Matador, and that fishbowl on wheels, the Pacer? The Pacer was 90 percent glass. It was impossible to toke up in a Pacer. There was no place to duck behind if the police cruised by you. Hell, they could spot your roach clip in the ashtray.
Now, I have no idea why, but Big Lilly’s simple act of generosity got my whole family in an uproar. Everyone was against her giving the car to me. But what they really resented was that I was Big Lilly’s favorite. One day Mom’s brother, Uncle Artie, came over and ripped all the wiring out of the Gremlin because he was so pissed that she gave me the car. He must have done it at night, because when I went to start it up the next day, it was completely gutted.
Word soon circulated as to who the culprit (hero) was. And later, when I confronted him, he freely admitted it. This is just typical of the whacked-out relationships that ran through my entire family. So what the hell chance do I have to be normal when half my family was slaughtered by Nazis and the other half can’t bear to let anyone show the love?
But in the end it was totally cool because my grandma put all new wiring in it, and it ran even better than it did before. And that sucker could run. It had a stick shift and a six-cylinder engine that flew. I think it gave Grandma some pleasure to show that she couldn’t be bested.
Later, Saul spray-painted “Road Crew” on the side of the car. He used a cartoon he drew of a girl clenching a flower in her teeth, señorita style, while her boobs hung freely. Done in white paint, it
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