Nine-nine-two-five-eight.
What the Hell is that, you ask?
It is the mileage on my, (as a pal’s mum likes to call it) shitty little Nissan.
There’s a story here. Like you couldn’t guess, right?
It begins in 1987…With Ed. I lived in Orlando then. Had just moved from my weary trek across the Southern Hemisphere.
Ed was my closest friend in those crazy days. We were best buds. He was a high school math teacher and retired Marine. I was a daycare worker. He was 62 when I met him. His wife suffered with Alzheimer’s disease. Well, we all suffered with it really. Alzheimer’s is like that.
Ed and I just clicked. For two years we were like a father-daughter team. He’d show up at my softball games wearing our team-gay, neon pink shirt, so popular in the 80’s, you know. He’d bring ice-cold watermelon for us. He loved me. No matter what. My first real glimpse at the; no-strings-attached kind of love. We ate, laughed, walked, talked and cried. Together. He would laugh so hard at me when we drove onto the military base. The guard would salute us because of Ed’s rank, and I would salute back. But with my left hand. He thought it was hilarious. I didn’t mean to, it was just my “leftist” nature, I suppose.
His wife eventually had to go away. To a care facility. Ed had a daughter. But she lived in Atlanta and didn’t visit much. He loved her madly.
Like I said, I was working in a daycare facility. For next to nothing pay. I didn’t have two nickels to rub together, let alone a car. I either hitched, bussed or biked to work. Until Ed suggested that I use his daughters car.
A Nissan 200SX. Sporty, for the times, eh?
As in previous posts there is a significant name you must remember. Write it down if need be.
“Reed Nissan, Orlando.” Where Ed bought the car.
Hang on to that name until I continue…
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