Personal Narrative Muscle Car

THE ULTIMATE WARRIOR
Muscle cars are just another of my passions and with widened eyes I inspected Gary’s sweet ride before he drove off. My thoughts wandered back to when I was 15 years old and was running an errand for my Mom. I happened to pass Montague’s Auto Body Shop on Pleasantville Road on my way to Daitch Shopwell in the Chilmark Shopping Center. In the lot of the body shop sat a 1967 gray Mustang hard top with a for sale sign in its windshield. The leather material on the seats were original and dyed red. The rest of the interior, including the dashboard, door panels and carpeting was jet black in color. There was only one problem. Larry, the shop owner, wanted $1,500 for the car and I only had $800 in my savings account and that was to go towards my college education.
Afraid that the Mustang would quickly be sold, I hustled my butt to the grocery store and shopped for everything on the list Mom had given me. I tried to run just as fast on my way back home but carrying three grocery bags slowed me down. Not to mention that one bag ripped opened and its contents spilled onto Pleasantville Road. I dodged a few cars while picking up rolling

oranges and when I was done there were only two grocery bags to carry home. When back at home I put the grocery bags down on the kitchen table and picked up the phone to call Gramps. Being out of breath and talking at about 100 words per second caused Gramps to think there was something wrong. He hung up the phone after nervously yelling, “Zak, Zak is everything ok? I’ll be right over!” Gramps’ Jeep pulled into our driveway in less than four minutes. That was a record for Gramps. He was in panic mode and quickly got out of his vehicle and ran into the house yelling for my mother. Mom met Gramps in the front hallway pleading with him to relax. By that time I was hiding in my room afraid and embarrassed to tell Gramps about the 67 Ford Mustang. I stayed in my room until Gramps calmed down and Mom gave me the all clear. Then in detail I described the Mustang in such a way the Gramps also became excited.
After school the next day I found the Mustang was sitting in the driveway and Gramps was behind the wheel revving the powerful engine and he had a huge smile on his face. He got out of the car and threw me the keys and said, “You owe me fifteen hundred bucks.” I was in shock and hugged Gramps until he told me he couldn’t breathe so I lessened my grip on the old man. My 16th birthday was only three weeks away so Gramps added, “Forget it Zak. Happy Birthday!” Well before I could give Gramps another bear hug he ran inside and locked the kitchen door.
The day I turned sixteen Gramps escorted me to the Motor Vehicle Department in Peekskill to get my driver’s permit and for the next four months he taught me the rules of the road. The first person I drove around after officially passing the driver’s test was Gramps. As we rode around town Gramps acted like a teenager. He asked me to honk the horn when we passed a hot looking girl or to blast the radio so everyone would notice us. While stopped at the traffic light in front of the Arcadian Shopping Center, Gramps stuck his head outside the passenger side window and challenged the driver of a 1979 Dodge Malibu to a drag race. When the light turned green the Malibu took off and I slowly cruised up the street. I will never forget that first ride in the Mustang.
I loved driving that car even though it didn’t have power steering or power brakes and was difficult to handle at times, especially in bad weather. Before proposing to Lynn I sold the classic automobile to buy her a diamond engagement ring. I have no regrets selling the car and at times I believe that Lynn married me because I had made such a huge sacrifice. Seeing Gary and his son Scott drive away in their gorgeous Mustang makes me want to own one again. A continuing mid-life crisis? I don’t know but I sure do miss that old car.
A tug on my shirt sleeve from Mykle and him saying, “Let’s
go Daddy” stopped me from staring at the tail lights on Gary’s car as it left the parking lot of Mickey Mantle Field. The boys and I hopped into our seats in my practical but boring family oriented Rav4 and headed home to the cabin. Usually after every one of Dylan’s baseball practices or games I would critique his performance but not this time. I just drove towards home trying to concentrate on how I would break the news about Gramps to the boys. Dylan knew something had happened and asked me, “Is there anything wrong Dad.”
In a barely audible and sad voice I told him, “Yes buddy there is. I have some bad news to tell you guys.” The blood drained out of the boy’s faces and I knew that they were upset. If there is one thing that I have learned since being a parent is that in these types of situations a cone full of soft ice cream makes any circumstance a better one. So I turned the Rav4 around and made a detour towards a popular roadside burger and ice cream joint that was only minutes away.
On the Farm is seasonal operation on Rt.9 in Latham and is famous for their soft ice cream and waffle cones. I planned to sit down with the boys and explain what had happened to Gramps while they enjoyed their favorite ice cream flavor. We pulled into the parking lot and walked up to the counter and ordered soft vanilla ice cream with sprinkles in a waffle cone. I could never understand the whole ice cream in a cup routine because there is nothing like eating ice cream out of a freshly made waffle cone. The ice cream clings to the cone and with every bite your mouth enjoys the combination of two great textures of the crunch and the velvety smoothness all at the same time. Sure it is less messy to use a cup especially when you have young children but seeing a child with ice cream all over their face that already is decorated with a smile makes eating ice cream out of a cone all the more fun. On the other hand, we weren’t here this afternoon to have fun.
On the freshly mown grass in front of the ice cream stand are four or five picnic tables for customers to sit and enjoy their orders. We chose one that had the most privacy and while we started on our cones I began to explain what was on my mind.
“Guys, I have some bad news about your great grandfather.”
Dylan interrupted by asking, “You mean Gramps?”
I continued, “Yes Gramps. As you know he has been in a nursing home and not physically doing very well. Your Grandmother called me during baseball practice and told me that Gramps had suffered a stroke and is on life-support.”
Never hearing this medical term before, Mykle asked “Daddy what is a stroke?”
“That is a good question Mykle,” so I did the best I could to explain the term to him. “A stroke is kind of a strange word for a health problem. You might think of a stroke as something good because people stroke their pet’s fur or maybe someone has told you about a stroke of good luck that happened to them. But if someone has a stroke, it means something has stopped the normal blood flow to the brain and the brain can’t survive without blood.” Sometimes kids get paranoid when they hear bad news and I could see that Mykle was a bit frightened. I mentioned that “Strokes usually happen to older people, like grandparents and kids don't typically get them.”
“Why does the brain need blood Daddy?” Mykle asked.
Craig has forewarned me that the boys would interrupt to ask questions and that I should take my time and answer each one of them. “Blood is circulating through your body all the time in tubes called arteries and veins. Usually, these blood vessels work fine and there's no problem. That's important because blood carries oxygen and nutrients to all the cells in your body. Without food and without oxygen the cells would die. A stroke can happen if something keeps the blood from flowing as it should. A person might have a clogged blood vessel so the blood can't get through. Or a blood vessel may burst and a part of the brain is flooded with blood. Either way, with a stroke, brain cells die because they don't get the oxygen or food that they need.”
The symptoms of Dylan starting to cry were starting to appear. His ear were turning bright red and his eyes were beginning to swell. He then asked me “Dad did Gramps die?”
“No. Not yet son.” Then I continued to explain what life-support was. “Gramps is being kept alive my machines because his brain is telling the rest of the body that it is time to die and as soon as the doctors get permission they will take Gramps off
of the machine and he will pass away.”
Dylan then asked “Dad. Who is going to give the doctors
permission?”
Now it was my turn to start to cry, but I composed myself and answered that “Gramps asked me to do so when the time came.”
Seeing that I was upset Dylan stood up and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I could feel the melted ice cream from his cone that was still in his hand run down my neck. Mykle joined in on the family hug and soon all three of us had melting ice cream running down our backs. I wouldn’t say being covered with ice cream was enjoyable but it was healing and none of us minded it at all.
I keep a couple of towels in the car for a messy emergency so I asked Dylan to retrieve them and on the way back to wet one of the towels at the water fountain on the side of the food stand. He did just that and after we threw away our uneaten cones, we spent the next few minutes wiping ourselves off. When we were reasonably clean, I revealed that we were on our way back to the cabin to pack a few things then we were headed straight to Ossining to their Grandmother’s house. Explaining to the kids about Gramps’ dire situation made me feel better, and the boys seemed to take the bad news fairly well.
When we arrived at the cabin Dylan asked if he could take a quick shower because as he put it, “Ice cream and infield dirt just makes mud.” I was going to tell him that the combination doesn’t smell too good either but instead of being that blunt I jokingly told him to, “Please! Do us that favor.” Dylan giggled all the way to the bathroom and while he was in the shower I sent Mykle to the loft with instructions to pack a couple of days’ worth of clothing and not to forget underwear and socks. When Dylan was finished he would do the same. Ever since Lynn and I broke-up I always kept some clothing in my old room at Mom’s therefore I didn’t need to pack anything for myself. I just sat on the couch to relax for a few minutes before the two hour drive south to Ossining.
It wasn’t long before I remembered reading an article in the April 14th issue of the Albany Times Union newspaper about a popular professional wrestler who had passed away. Near the fireplace I keep a stack of newspapers and magazines that have articles in them that I didn’t finish reading or want to read again. For some unknown reason I kept this issue and rustled through the sections of the newspaper until I found this article.
I am not ashamed to admit that professional wrestling supplied me with some entertainment when no other forms were available. In fact, after asking Lynn to marry me, I was looking for another way to supplement my meager income because teaching SAT preparation just wasn’t cutting it.
Professional Wrestling, led by owner Vince McMahon of the World Wide Wrestling Federation, was peaking in its popularity and the “sport” was geared towards young male. Therefore many of the students I was in contact with enjoyed talking about the wrestlers, especially the Ultimate Warrior. Long story short, I met future wrestling hall of famer Ivan “The Polish Hammer” Putsky in a bar after a wrestling show at the Westchester County Center in White Plains. We talked for a few minutes and Ivan told me that Vince McMahon was looking for script writers for their wrestling shows. Well I called his company’s human resource department the next morning and received an appointment for an interview two days later at their corporate headquarters in Stamford, Connecticut. Unfortunately, I had little experience writing professionally, hence I was graciously thanked and turned away.
While scanning the article I read that the Ultimate Warrior passed away the weekend after he was inducted into the Professional Wrestler’s Hall of Fame. He gave a short but eloquent acceptance speech to his peers and fans at his induction ceremony. Thinking to myself as I read the article, “What a great compilation of words and sentences. That could have been my writing if Vince McMahon would have hired me many years ago.”
While reading the speech I couldn’t help but think of
Gramps. "Every man's heart one day beats its final beat. His lungs breathe their final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse through the body of others and makes them believe deeper in something that's larger than life, then his essence, his spirit, will be immortalized by the storytellers, by the loyalty, by the memory of those who honor him, and make the running the man did live forever."
I sat on the couch and realized that Gramps was my Ultimate Warrior. Not because he was big and muscular and wore a gold championship belt around his waist but that he spent so much time teaching me life’s most important morals and principles. I know he expects that I will do the same for my children. It will be so tough to say good-bye to him tomorrow morning, but knowing that he will continue to live through me and especially through Dylan and Mykle will make my job easier.
Minutes later Dylan and Mykle were packed and ready to go however I was still on the couch day-dreaming of Gramps. The both of them walked over to the couch where I was resting and they sat on either side of me. Dylan asked me if it would make me feel better if I told them a story about Gramps. I whispered, “It sure would,” and proceeded to tell them about the time Gramps turned one of my worst days into one of my best.
“It was the night before I turned eleven years old.

My parents were recently divorced and my father was living in Peekskill with my brothers. I was lying in bed thinking of my birthday when my father walked into my room. He was there to ask me what I wanted to do for my birthday. It was a tradition in our family that the birthday boy would ask to be taken somewhere or do something that was special in some way or another to him. My brothers are New York Giant football fans and since their birthdays fell on months during the National Football League season, they usually chose to attend a Giant game. My father was a rugby fan when he was a boy in Ireland and learned to love American football. It was an easy transition for him because both games are rugged so he was more than happy to grant their birthday

requests.”
Being inquisitive Mykle asked, “Daddy. What is rugby?” Dylan was eager to hear the rest of the story so he told his
brother, “Don’t worry about that now Mykle. I’ll explain the game to you later.”
Thanks to Dylan I was allowed to go on with my story without discussing rugby. “Well, I wasn’t as big as my brothers, so instead of playing football like your Uncles, I fell in love with baseball and especially liked to watch the Yankees on television. My brothers always teased me about how football was a man’s game and baseball was for wimps. I have a strong feeling that they talked your Grandfather out of taking me to Yankee Stadium on my tenth birthday like I requested. Instead, my father gave me a replica Yankee jersey and cap. I was appreciative but a little disappointed because that isn’t what I wanted for my birthday. I wanted to go to Yankee Stadium to see my favorite ballplayers.”
Mykle interrupted by saying “Wow. That’s sad Daddy.” I realized that it was sad but I kept telling my favorite Gramps’ story.
“But guys thanks to Gramps fishing was my new passion in life so when my father asked me the night before I became eleven what I wanted to do for my birthday I said I wanted to go fishing but not just any kind of fishing. I wanted to get up early and go to the docks in New Rochelle and get on a fishing party boat. Gramps told me stories of vicious blue fish and wanted to troll for them on the Long Island Sound. My Father said well alright and that he would be back at 5AM sharp and that I’d better be ready.”
Dylan was already excited that baseball was mentioned in the story but know that fishing was included he couldn’t wait to hear the ending. “What happened next Dad? Did you catch any blues?”
“Wait a minute. Let me finish,” I relayed to Dylan as I tried to stay focused. “I was so excited that my Father was taking me fishing that I stayed up all night. When the clock on my desk read 4:45 I jumped out of bed, got dressed, and ran down the stairs then onto the front porch to wait for my father. By that time my Mom was in the kitchen drinking her morning coffee and keeping an eye on me to make sure I was picked up. An hour later I was still waiting. There was no call from my Father. He just didn’t show up. I went back inside, then up the stairs to my room. I proceeded to cry my eyes out until I fell asleep.”
“A half hour later Gramps walked into my room. He woke me up and said, ‘If you want to hook into some blues then we’d better hurry.’ It was too late to catch the party boats out of New Rochelle, so Gramps drove all the way to Montauk Point on the tip of Long Island. Luckily, we caught the last boat out.”
I had a great time landing about ten bluefish that day and a couple of sand sharks as well. I found out a couple of days later that my Father went out drinking after talking to me and didn’t wake up till noon the next day. Things between my Father and I were never the same but Gramps became my hero.”
Mykle was the first to acknowledge that my, “story was a good one and that Gramps is a great guy.” Dylan agreed. Then I ordered the boys to grab their back packs and get into the Rav4 so we could start our drive to their Grandmother’s house and I called Mom to tell her we were on our way.