Friday morning I left early for the once City of Angels. Today it is the City of Parked Cars. It was time to re-engage with my daughter. By now our broken bones had healed, in fact, a new and stronger bond had begun. We had detached for over four year. Yet both us needed to play our games away for awhile before returning home.
The San Diego downtown 'Y' had provided me $1,800 for the move back to my origins. It was another hot one in San Diego by the Bay. I picked up my car in Old Town at eight o'clock Friday to beat the heat and early Labor Day traffic. Chap stick was needed when we passed Huntington Drive. I rubbed some over my dried lips. It felt good to rid myself of the damp heavy-damp air in San Diego. My lungs sang for the first time in quite awhile. .
The roads were clear. Many had stayed home to ready themselves for the Labor Day festivities. The 5 ran into the Santa Monica Freeway. I got off on the Overland exit on my way to Pico Blvd. Mistake. Only one lane was available as workers laid cement beside the curb. I arrived at about eleven o'clock to the West L. A. address. Again I applied more chap stick and no longer did I need to sneeze.
My daughter had misplaced her keys so I needed to make three. I remembered a shoe store that doubled as a key maker. She sat at her favorite drinking hole, Coffee Bean. I took the key and made a set of three for us, and for only three fifty. She had gotten rid of her room mate and it had caused too much stress. We began to look for two bedroom apartments in West Los Angeles.
The second day we accomplished a lot more. No longer did I react to everything she said. I just went with the flow. Her dog Oscar had not been clipped in years. We dropped him off at Pet's are Us and drove to Costco for an Aerobed. We bought the bed and returned for the dog. to find her dog just about completed with its hair cut. My daughter plugged it in the air mattress and presto, I had the replica of a real queen size bed.
I took a one hours nap and took my daughter's advise. I had not been to a car wash in over twenty years and my little Cavalier must have given off some strange odors. I drove to the Beverly Glen car wash. across the street was where my Dad Harry had played tennis for most of his life. It was the first real car wash ever. My car rumbled through the wash while I sat and reconnoitered with my Dad Harry.
My flashback of my Dad made me smile. Harry was in his element when he carried a racket and wore that old floppy hat and scuffed Wilson shoes. He had been a fixture at Rancho Park, just above Pico Blvd. His booming serve had beaten the club pro. In fact my Dad Harry never needed a backhand. His plumbers for-hand was enough
The fourteen dollars was well spent. My car could not compete in looks with the brand new black BMW's or Audi's but its experience gave it lots of pride. Yes it's paint had chipped and the color was gone, but the engine ran swell, just like mine. It had over 180,000 miles and with my 75 years we made quite a duo. After the car wash, I left for home and found my daughter asleep.
I took a nap and readied myself for an evening of dance that night, and Alpine Village did not disappoint. The Blue Birds played, like many years before. That was where I met the love of my life and also my Argentina bomb shell. I hoped to fall in love again, and maybe tonight would be the night.
I ate a prime rib and danced for over one hour. Of course I had no trouble sleeping. There is nothing like a good sleep knowing that in the other room was my second daughter fast asleep with her trusty dog Oscar.
No comments:
Post a Comment