One night in '75...

One morning  in '75 I came out of my third shift at the GE plant to find smoke and steam rising up outa the hood of my '67 Impala SS.

Since I'd parked her more than 10 hours before, I found this a little curious. But let me back up a little.

There was a code at the time. You knew that when you parked your car, there was a possibility that one of the brothers was going to have to borrow it. Happened all the time. I remember Kipling leaving his lime-green 340 Duster in the parking lot at Budd. He probably hadn't pulled on his work togs before I was terrorizing the streets of Kitchener with that car. Had a great night. Fast cars and teenage hookers; how can you not have a great night when you're young and stupid?

Left the Duster in the Budd parking lot with a case of beer under the hood. Didn't realize Kipling was stunned enough to crank the Duster over till the battery was dead. The whole idea of disconnecting the battery was to make him look under the hood and discover the case of beer. Didn't discover it till the tow-truck driver opened the hood.

So I climb into the Impala. 327 four-barrel with the powerglide. Nice piece. Wasn't a 427 with a four-speed, but what the hell.... still a nice piece. So it's eight in the morning and I'm heading home and there's a gal standing on the side of Highway 7, and I do what any sensitive guy would do, pull over.

Youngish hippie-type chick. She runs up to the car. Tugs on the door. Tugs and tugs and tugs. Can't get the fucking door open. I can't seem to push it open from the inside. Finally I climb out, walk around to the passenger side, and holy shit!

From front quarter panel to rear quarter panel, and of course for the length of the door, the passenger side of the car is caved right in.

Well, hippie chick could have climbed in through the driver side, and then, having no way out, enjoyed my company for the rest of the morning. She made the prudent decision, declined the offer, and I was left to tool down the road on my own.

So I'm tooling along, and I'm reaching under the seat for a bottle opener I knew I'd  left there, and I come up with a flashlight I've never seen before. Hmmm... where'd that come from? Reach around a bit more, and fish out a 40 ounce bottle of rum. What? Don't remember leaving that there.... Fish around a bit more, and what the hell is this,...oh, a transistor radio I've never seen....

I'm driving down the highway, contemplating all the shit I'm getting out from under the seat, and thinking back on how hippie-girl couldn't open the door, and suddenly I realize, HOLY SHIT, IMPALA SS HAS HAD A BUSY BUSY NIGHT!!!

Well, I was pissed off. Whoever had borrowed the Impala had pretty much wrecked her, and left a pile of incriminating evidence in the vehicle. That was going over the line.

I'd like to say I got the truth out of Kipling without holding a gun to his head, but I did what I had to do. Not that I would ever have pulled the trigger, but he didn't know that. So here's what Kipling told me:

"Oh, sorry man, but we got to the trailer park and there was nobody home. Keef and Barney started going through the trailers. Keef was taking forever to fix some peanut-butter sandwiches, so while he was in there I decided to give the trailer a wee bunt over the crest of the ridge. Shoulda seen it.... trailer tumbling down the hillside, Keef screaming for help. Anyway, he eventually emerges from the upside-down trailer with his peanut-butter sandwiches. I'm backing up to meet him half-way and holy shit, if the passenger side doesn't get caught up in some trees... nearly took the whole side off".

That took away the future collector value of my '67 Impala SS. A good clean one like I had is worth 50 grand right now. Hope they think the flashlight and the radio were worth it.

For my part, I still wonder what hippie-girl might have become had that passenger door been operable.