Part Two - Pizza Anyone?
So the weekend comes and we found another used refrigerator for sale and hooked it up on the deck of our camper getaway. Here comes Daddy George. He drives up, parks, walks up the steps and grabs a seat in one of the camp chairs. “Want a beer George? I ask and pull one out of the cooler we had down by the boat. “Sure,” he says and I hand him one. He looks down at his beer, then around the deck. His eyes stop at the fridge. “That doesn’t look like the one I gave you.” “Well, that’s because it’s not. We had to get another one.” I offered. “Was something wrong with the one I gave you?” “Well, first it was running, then it stopped,” I offered. Coletta added, “Well, it was on, then it was off,” a reference to being ON the truck and then being OFF the truck. We never lied….just never told the WHOLE truth. Don’t know if he ever learned the rest of the story. If he did, he never let on.
So what does Pizza have to do with this story? Well…after we dropped the broken fridge off at the strip mine, we decided to go home. Now this was July, and it was hotter than hell. In the 90’s. We decided that rather than have to go home to cook, we would stop in town at the local pizza parlor (which just happened to be on the OTHER end of that bridge). So we drove back into town, and pulled up in front of the Pizza Palace. The kids were riding in the back of the truck in the bed (remember this was West Virginia and parents weren’t all paranoid back in the day. They survived and healthily so). I went to open the tailgate pulling the handle on the top of the tailgate and letting it drop….to the STREET. Both hinges were so rusted they gave way allowing the tailgate to drop off the truck. It would be hanging by the two cables, except they also gave way. I said a few choice things, the kids jumped down, I picked up the tailgate and tossed it into the bed of the pickup.
We walked into the Pizza Palace in hopes of finding a cool retreat. It was hot enough to cook the pizzas on the counter. “Whew! “ I exclaimed. “A bit warm in here.” “Sorry sir the AC is down. Can I help you. “ “Yeah, we’d like a large pepperoni pizza….TO GO!” We stepped outside to wait. We paid, grabbed the pizza and the kids jumped back in the truck bed. Coletta jumped in the passenger seat and I came around to the driver’s side. I put my hand on the door handle…I don’t even think I pulled it, maybe I did, but I put my hand on the door handle and heard a loud SNAP! The truck dropped at least six inches. WTF? Apparently, this vehicle had what was called “Torsion bar suspension.” A carbon steel rod that twisted with bumps and then snapped back into place. Right now the rod snapped all right, it snapped in half. I was now the proud owner of a Low Rider. I climbed in, actually had to climb DOWN to get in. The car was driveable but had no…I repeat NO suspension. Not an inch of ride up and down. It was like driving a four wheeled skateboard.
Needless to say, the next stop for the Luv was the junkyard. The guy took that. Drained of all its vital fluids it made its way to the car crusher. I missed that event. I would have LOVED to have hit the button and watched that beast get squashed into a six inch high coaster. Like a beer can you just stomped with your boot. Don’t even ask about the next two trucks I bought after that. Just don’t.