99258

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…

…continuing.
I got to drive Lisa’s car and things were going well. Until Ed had a heart attack. I went to see him in the hospital, and for the first time in my whole life, I saw someone I loved rendered powerless and nothing could I do to stop it. I was scared. Terrified. Ed just took my hand and said, you know, if anything happens to me, you’re getting that car. I cried. Didn’t really give a rat’s patooty about a car then. I could live without the car, but not without my friend.

Ed recovered.

The Dr. told him not to drink or smoke. That he would be fine. And he was. For another year. On my birthday, 1990. He came to take me to dinner. A bagful of presents in tow. He didn’t look well. He looked bloated. For the first time ever, he asked me to drive. I was stunned. He didn’t eat much and wasn’t his usual self. He used to always tell me: “There’s no such thing as luck, kid.” But I was secretly hoping for some on this night.

Two days later, I received a call from Lisa. Her father had had a stroke.
I went to the hospital. I saw Ed, my friend, laying there so helpless, so vulnerable. He’d have hated for me to see him in such an un-Marine like state. I stayed until they made me leave. It was a vigil for the next week. My friends rallied their support, but I was inconsolable. Just wanted to be left alone. September 12th, 1990 I went to my first A.A. meeting.

Two days later, I got a call…

It was Lisa. Come now, my dad is dying.
I prayed to God to please let me make it in time. Prayed to a God that I had no clue would hear me or not.
I went to him. He was unconscious. Or so they told me. I took his hand, my tears were like fire on my cheeks. He squeezed it, I know he did. Three breaths later, he left me. Left the world. September 14th, 1990.
I stayed sober through my own personal miracles that are another story in themselves. But they had Ed’s hand in them all the way.

I did receive two thing in Ed’s will. The Nissan and his Marine Corps ring. I still have the ring. And, in a way, I still have the car…

This, after 16 years is still so emotional to write…

Ok. So I stayed in Orlando until 1993. Then I moved to Jacksonville. Here’s where all my entries about the job sort of intermingle time-wise.
I was driving my 200SX the 90 mile round trip to work. I loved that car. It was my last physical connection to Ed. I wanted it to always be there. But it wasn’t in the will of All things. After a year of commuting, she was getting tired. Started breaking up, breaking down. After a thousand dollars in repair bills, she quit. Died right on the lot in the Nissan dealership at Orange Park. “Sunrise Nissan.”

I was faced with a decision. Another couple grand to replace the engine, or buy a new car. I almost quit my job then. Would rather have kept the car than the job. But a wiser person than I intervened. She said: ” Dee, it’s time to let go. ” That was Kathy.

I took a newer Nissan Sentra out for a test drive. I hated it. No power windows, no electronic lady-voice telling me when things were happening…Like, fuel level is low, or right door open. This car I was thinking of buying was a piece of junk. But, I made a choice that day. I spent the day at the dealership sitting in Ed’s car, crying. People would walk by and look at me like I was a few sandwiches short of a picnic. But I didn’t care. My heart was broken, and I blamed God for this.

Took the new “used” car home and parked it in the garage. That’s when it hit me. I was furious. Really. I got so angry. These jack-offs at Sunrise Nissan had plastered the car with their friggin’ advertising. Stickers on the bumper, license plate covers, stickers on the window. I flew into a peeling-off frenzy. I kicked the tire, told the car I hated it. Sobbed at God for taking away my last reminder of Ed. It wasn’t fair. I hated Him.

I pulled off the plate cover, the window sticker.

I reached to pull off the dealer sticker from the bumper. Guess what was there, under that sticker?

Another sticker.

Guess what it said?
” Reed Nissan, Orlando. ”

A punch in the gut that took my breath.

“There’s no such thing as luck, kid.”

I felt it then. The sense that once love is created, it can never die.
I have since sold that car to a member of A.A. and purchased another.
A Nissan. Brand new. Just paid it off last month. I’m hangin’ on to her for awhile, she’s still steady through my storms.

And so is Ed.

My friend, whom I salute to up there.
With my left hand.

This entry was posted on Saturday, May 6th, 2006 at 6:17 am and is filed under Gut wrenchers. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.