Chrysler 300

I first met Kipling when he was bleeding all over the interior of a 1969 Chrysler 300. The guy who owned the Chrysler says to me, "he's bleeding all over my fucking upholstery!"

Me and Mr. Chrysler were standing on the side of what is now officially "Line 86," but was at the time known as the Elmira Road. Kipling was out giving a demo ride to a couple of guys who were interested in buying his Chevy II.

I'd almost bought it before Kipling bought it. It had been owned by one of the Leader boys. The Leader boys worked at a gas station on the corner of Silvercreek and Waterloo Avenue. I walked by it every day after school on my way to my job at John's Supertest.

On the lot they had a couple of cars for sale. A 66 Chevelle with a 327 for $1,500, and a 64 Chevy II with a 283 4bbl and four speed, for a thousand bucks.

I worked crazy hours at John's Supertest, and was salting away a bit of cash from my dollar an hour job. That Chevy II called my name every time I walked by. My sixteenth birthday was coming up, the day I would have a driver's licence... and a 64 Chevy II!

Unfortunately, somebody bought it out from under me before that happy birthday.

Kipling.

A few years later, I'm talking to Buddy beside the road that night. There's two other guys still in the Chevy II, either dead or comatose, and Mr. Chrysler doesn't seem that interested in pulling them out and having them bleed over what's left of his upholstery.

That test drive had gone awry. Kipling had downshifted and stood on the gas to pass that Chrysler 300. A rookie mistake.

The road was a little damp due to the first snowflakes of the season.

The Chevy II spun out, left the road, and hit a tree head-on right across the road from the Brubacher Sales Arena.

That was quite a deal in its time too, the Brubacher Sales Arena. Some sharpie from the States comes up, buys a farm just down the road, calls it a "Sales Arena," and before you know it, they're in the news for selling a dairy cow for a hundred thousand bucks!

But I digress.

Kipling fully recovered from his injuries, as did the comatose guys in the Chevy II. In fact, they recovered so well that they sued Kipling's ass nine ways from Sunday. He's still paying the price today.


I don't know if Mr. Chrysler ever got over his bloodied upholstery.