The Legend of Joe Getty

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She is wobbly and disoriented and has the glazed over look in her eye.

And he comes over to me at the pumps and says quietly, "Now *that's* what I call a road test. You might have to walk her out to her car."

He knew that kind of stuff embarrassed me .. the good Catholic boy. Which is why he did it.

Tho I'm sure, to him, it was a demonstration » "This is how you do it. You leave them wobbly and disoriented and struggling to remember their own name and where they parked their car and with that shit-eatin' grin of contentment on their face and that glazed over look in their eye."

Today we have a question phrased like so » "Who's yer daddy?" Which I sometimes say jokingly to my son.

But for some very fine women .. he was clearly theirs.

At first, it was shocking. But then you get used to it. It becomes the norm. The new normal, as Larry or Bill might say.

I wanted to ask him, "Arent you concerned that Sharon might see you driving this girl around town?" [ There was always this cool, black, chopped Harley there at the station and different guys woud take it for rides at different times. ]

But obviously he wasnt.

I had never seen her before. For all I know she had walked in to ask about a tune-up. "I'll tune you right up, ma'am. Right this way."

You learn not to ask .. because these are answers that you dont want to hear. (He had a little boy.)

And they are only too happy to tell you. They may even tell you even if you dont ask.

They fucked with me a lot when I first got there. The boss would be like, "I want you to wash every window."

And here comes this girl during rush hour and she is wearing a miniskirt pulled up.

And she is like, "Ooh, you do do that so good .. would you like to check my oil, too.?"

I have many such stories. The first six months, they fucked with me the most.

The legend of Joe Getty .. long story. Long, crazy story. A few years long.

Well, that is not counting the times that he used to stop over the house when I was small .. to see my dad.

They used to work together. Before I was born. Before my dad married my mom.

He was almost gonna tell me some juicy shit about my dad one night .. but pussied out. But you could tell it was gonna be good.

» Giving Me Shit from the Grave

[ I recall at my dad's funeral .. I was sitting at one of the round reception tables with bro a handful of others ..

.. and this hot-shot guy comes over to me .. who used to come over to the house all the time when I was very young.

Now this is not his exact words, but they are not far from what he said, "You did this. You killed him. You put him in his grave. And if you didnt, you were certainly the main contributor."

And he standing behind me, sorta. I took a deep breath and I could feel the words coming and they were not nice words.

Something like, "Dude, you obviously have no clue because you werent even there. Maybe dad called you to tell you about when I was fucking up and they had to pick me up at the police station. Which was, by the way, the happiest I had seen him in a long time. But now that you mention it, let me take this opportunity to tell you the other half of the story. That half that I know for a fact that you havent heard. You're probably gonna wanna have a seat, dawg .. cuz this might take a while."

But I could see that this was a no-win situation, so I bit my tongue and didnt say much of anything and he left shortly thereafter.

But it felt like dad had come back from the grave to give me shit from beyond .. sending his minions to do his bidding for him.

And I thought, "This [ burying him ] isnt going to be as easy as I thought." And I was on guard after that, but no one else came up to give me shit.

And Tunie is like, "What was that all about?"

"I'm the one who put him in the grave," I said.

She smiled. (Cuz she knew.)

It had been only weeks earlier when he told me, "When you were young, I was under a lot of pressure."

This guy was a savvy businessman, very wealthy, who had an only daughter who they were grooming me for ..

.. but I would have none of that.

My mom is like, "Honey, you can love a rich girl just as easily as you can love a poor girl." I heard that many times, while growing up. Long before I was even into girls.

My mom was only 19 when I was born.

And I am thinking, "How about if I just make my own decisons about my life .. because I am the one who is going to have to live with myself for the rest of my life .. and you guys are doing a real good job at teaching me all the stuff NOT to do .. especially how not to treat kids. Outstanding job, mom. You and dad make a good team."

Later, much later .. mom would say, "Oh honey, we made a lot of mistakes with you."

I am thinking, "You're shittin' me, mom. You're just seeing that now? I coulda told you that long ago."

I am not saying they didnt try, no. I would never say that.

I am just saying that their techniques did not work very well for/with me. And that is putting it as nicely as I can.

Because that sentence does not refer to the damage that bad parenting can do. (Can and does do.)

And here is a topic with which I have much experience. But we wont go there now.

But I have heard parents say, "Well, I did all that stuff with my kids and they turned out okay."

Which only proved how little they really knew about their kids. Because, if they really knew their kids .. then they would know how fucked up they were.

But let us not meddle.

Tho I wished that my parents had read at least one book on the topic of parenting. (I never saw my dad reading a single book, on anything, ever. Not even once.)

They were obviously just winging it .. making it up as they go.

My dad was older than my boss (the owner) by roughly the same number of years that he was older than me.

And when he would come over the house when I was small, I could see that he respected and admired and liked my dad. (God only knows why. You could tell that they shared many secrets.)

My dad had many cool and colorful guy-friends who would stop by the house from time to time .. to chat and catch up on life. But he was the shit of them all.

This was the juiciest of all conversations .. the guy talk. I would always sit and listen quietly. Fascinating shit.

The neighborhood kids would all gather round whenever he came over .. to listen and be entertained. He was like a traveling minstel to us. He would just drop the tailgate of his pick-up and set up shop right there in the driveway.

He had obviously been to places that we did not even know existed.

I was downright captivated. Especially when I was small. The word 'dazzled' would not be an exaggeration.

He was always nice to me and made me feel special .. by talking directly to me in a way that he knew I could understand.

So now that I am grown, he is repaying with me the debt of gratitude that he feels he owes to my dad.

Cuz he says to me one time when it was dark out (something like) "Your dad gave me a job and set my ass straight at a time when I was a young punk like you and getting into trouble and all fucked up and nobody would have me and my folks kicked me out."

[ My dad had a place down at the beach .. when he met my mom. That topic was off-limits. ]

There was a while there when he was giving me lots of advice. It seemed like too much, at times. But then things lightened up.

Very formative time, for me. Formative period. Formative relationship(s).

While forming new skills. Social skills. Learning new things. About the world and the humans in it.

When I first got there I felt like I had been totally sheltered all my life .. because I saw so much stuff going on .. in the peripheries of life.

I did not really like that feeling of being naive to the realities of life. And life will set straight your ass soon enough .. so you neednt worry or fret.

But it was such a shock for me. And they could tell. Which only made them want to fuck with me all the more.

Tho they clearly viewed it as an initiation of sorts, whereby you are toughened up for entry into the clan. The gang. The group. The club. Us here.

I mean, I was a good Catholic boy who thought I would burn in hell forever if I so much as overheard someone even mention the word 'vagina'.

And I am here to report that they were indeed good teachers. Good indoctrinators. Sometimes a little sick in the head, maybe. But I felt lucky to have had the experiences they gave me. Really.

The boss .. he had a sparkle in his eye, too. A most mischievious sparkle.

He taught automobile mechanics to prisoners .. and that always made me respect him.

He was hard to work for, tho. I had older dudes say things like, "I lasted there two weeks .. and I feel like I did good making it that long."

Guys who were in the grades ahead of me are patting me on the shoulder, saying, "Good luck with that. I hope you last more than two weeks."

I mean, in the halls of our high school, person after person would stop me and say, "I see that you're working over at the Getty station. That guy is a lunatic. Let me tell you what happened."

Seriously funny stories. I was surprised how many kids he had hired and fired. He was hard to please and could be demanding .. in an aggressive and occasionally violent kind of way.

» No Idle Threat

I mean, he would threaten to kick your ass and punch your lights out .. and do general bodily harm .. when he got mad about something. He would throw shit all the way out into the street.

He never did, but I found his threats credible. Very credible. The next day, it would be like nothing ever happened. (All Italians are like that.)

When he would go at it with Julio, a dark cloud would come over the place. Tho they usually got along well.

I exaggerate when I say that he had hired and fired the whole high school .. but not as much as you might think.

It was good work if you could handle the volatility and getting threatened with bodily harm .. because he gave you lots of hours. Many as you wanted.

Talk about entertainment. Perhaps some other time I will elaborate.

Well .. maybe I can tell you about the time he set me up with his baby-sitter. She was my age, maybe a year older.

She went to some other school. I did not know her.

And truth be told, I am not really into it. Cuz they were always setting me up with this girl or that. And often much older me. So I was usually scared shitless.

They literally called this girl one night at 10 PM and TOLD HER that I was on my way over. After we had been out drinking at some bar. And made me go over there. Thank God she wouldnt answer the door.

She lived right next to the high school, tho, and I would stop in to visit her from time to time. She was always very nice to me. Sometimes she would fix me a sandwich. Tho we never had sex.

She had an adorable boy, 4 or 5. Smart as shit, too. Like eerily smart. She had to dilute his orange juice 2-to-1 or he would get the shits. She was a good mom.

I did not know the dad. I think that she was attracted to the wild guys. And I was not wild. Not hardly.

Anyway .. the baby-sitter. She *was* very nice .. just like he said.

After work, I would turn off the lights at the gas station and lock the door and count the money and stick the cash in a bank deposit bag, which I would stick it in my pants ..

.. and drive up to his house and drop it off with whoever happened to be there. (Usually his wife.)

He lived just minutes away, up the hill. Very steep hills. Not far from the Hippie's house, who lived even further up the hill.

But I remember him emphasizing to me .. that this was a "good, clean girl".

I mean, he would get right up in your face when we were having certain conversations.

And it was clear to me that the fact that she was a "good, clean girl" meant a lot to him.

And he knows I have to go up to his house after work to drop off the money .. and the baby-sitter knows that I am coming. She is expecting me.

We talked a little .. me and the baby-sitter .. and she made it easy for me to talk some more. And then I started to like her. To like talking to her.

But my point is really that .. you would never think that any of his side-girls were trashy. Not in the least. Only the very finest for him. Really. He did not eat baloney sandwiches.

That was obviously important to him. Very obvious.

He had this one side-regular girl for a while .. maybe six months. She looked like a Czech model .. no shit .. tall, elegant, willowy, tho not too far from sporty.

And she was always dressed very fashionably .. which made her look like a real model.

He is 28 or 29 and she is 23 or 24.

She got whatever she wanted. But you would never see this girl as trashy. Nowhere ever near. She had plenty of little girl left in her.

She was always very nice to me. (But she knows that he's married.)

He really liked her. You could tell. If he was ever smitten, that was the girl. Tho I never said anything to anybody.

After work, I would drive up to his house and drop off the money with his wife. At 8 or 9 o'clock. Offer a pleasant greeting and leave.

I mean, she knew. They fought a lot. And she had to know that I knew. So it was a little awkward.

Because I sympathized with her plight. But he is my boss. And a few of his screws need a little Loctite. He's combustible material.

Sometimes just he and I would go out after work to have a beer or two. He knew everybody and he knew how to have fun and would introduce me to people. And he has a gun in a holster up, under his arm, mostly hidden by his work-vest.

He also had an apartment in town that he used for the guys who ran the tow truck (all night long for AAA). That apartment got plenty of use .. let me tell you.

I stayed there for a week once with Julio .. when the boss went away on vacation.

We would go to Millie's every morning at 6:30 for breakfast. Pancakes, 2 eggs, 2 bacon, 2 sausage and a shitload of coffee. I would go to high school totally wired and he would go to work .. where I would go after school.

[ The guy who I relieved in the afternoon after school (David) was a police officer who worked the afternoon shift .. so we were in good with the cops. ]

And I learned a lot about life and maturity during that week I spent with Julio at the apartment. There is a big diiference between 17 or 18 and 23 or 24.

Oh, the AAA apartment .. that reminds me .. they also fix'ed me up with the daughter of the lady from AAA. Who would call us with AAA tow jobs.

She was a college girl. A college freshman .. while I was still in high school.

I thought myself hot shit then. Dating a college girl while I was still in high school.

I actually saw that girl a bunch of times. She is like, "You could just sleep over if you want. My folks are cool about that. Now that I'm in college."

Cuz she didnt live very close. And her mom, being AAA, did not want me driving home late at night.

[[ Tho, compared to California .. everything in Connecticut is close. I said to cuz recently, when she was telling me how it was to take her daughter on a cool singing gig .. schleping equipment for her.

I said, "That's nothing, Cuz. That's how far we drive here in California just to get our groceries." ]]

Tho we slept down in the living room and not in her room. But dont think I wasnt aware of how close it was. Her folks did not bother us. Freedom, baby.

Hot Shit in High School » My First Time in a Bar (Raw Eggs in Beer & Pig's Feet)

And speaking of feeling like hot shit in high school .. I remember that they took me to a bar on my 17th birthday. Where they knew the owner, who was a customer. Where they knew everybody, actually.

And Julio was sitting next to me at the bar .. and he order a "Bacardi-n-Coke". And then the bartender asked me what I wanted and I didnt know what to order so I just ordered the same thing as Julio. 

And they told the bartender that it was my 18th birthday .. even tho it was really only my 17th. 

And they made drink a beer-with-an-egg in it. And the yoke got stuck in my throat for a sec .. and I thought I was gonna blow chunks all over the bar ..

.. when it finally slithered down. Thankfully. Like unstopping a plugged drain. Very weird feeling.

And they made me eat pig's feet and all kinds of crazy shit like that. But I genuinely loved every minute of it and thought myself totally hot shit for being just a 17-year old high school punk.

I was still a vigin (.. because I didnt loose my virginity until I was 17, long story, with a different baby-sitter) .. but they were working on that furiously.

I should just quit here and get back to the Hippie. I loved the Hippie. (Bobby G.) But perhaps now you can see why I liked the Hippie so much.

And I didnt even finish telling you the baby-sitter story. I think she went to a Catholic girls' school. Very smart.

The end. ■

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