The Mustang

A couple of days after we moved to Mission Beach mom decided we needed a car so she hopped on a bus and came back a couple of hours later with a silver blue 65 Mustang convertible (289 engine). I was a bit surprised that anyone would give mom a loan because she didn't have a job... But an outfit called "The Associates" came up with a "no down payment special" and a year later (thanks to the exorbitant interest rate and late payment penalties) we owed more on the car than mom initially borrowed :-)

It was always interesting riding with mom... She wasn't that good of a driver at her best - and when we got to Mission Beach she hadn't driven for almost 3 1/2 years. I have a vague recollection that when she did take the California exam she passed with the bare minimum score on both the written and driving test - I suspect they took pity on her and tossed in a few points :-) But I'll leave the driving stories for later...

Aside: I wish there were some pictures of the car, or the condo, or me - or anything from that time period - but there aren't... Well, except for a couple of yearbook photos some former classmates (that I barely knew) were kind enough to scan and email to me. Also - there's one 8mm home movie I've digitized - so I could do some screen grabs...

We didn't have a TV at the time but we did buy a nice console stereo system (on credit, of course). Which reminds me: One day these 2 mobster-looking repo men in dark glasses and black suits (sent by our friends at Avco Finance) showed up at our door looking for that color TV we sold before leaving Winnipeg. Yeah - even in the days before computer databases the financial industry was surprisingly good at "skip tracing" - the creditors always managed to find us...
When they saw the stereo system "Guido and Vinnie" got all excited - until we reminded them it was a TV they were looking for... They finally left empty handed after a thorough search of the condo.

And speaking of repo attempts - while we lived on Mission Beach I got a call from a repo man claiming to be a lawyer. He told me that if I didn't return my (unpaid for) Vox Phantom XII guitar I would be deported to Germany :-) Now - I had only just turned 15 - but I had been arguing with my sister Karina since I was old enough to talk. The poor repo guy was hopelessly outmatched. After I was finished with him all he could think of to say was "Well, I'd hate to be in your shoes." I assured him that my shoes were actually quite comfortable and thanked him for his concern :-)

OK - here's a bit of a puzzle: I know I watched a good bit of the 1968 Olympics - they were in October that year. But I also know we didn't have a TV at the time... All I can figured is I was hanging out across the hall with DJ Jeff and his buddy - probably drinking Coors :-)

Aside: One of things I remember about DJ Jeff is that he did this radio segment called "music - only for a woman" at KFMB-FM... They made him read poetry in a soothing voice and everything - he absolutely hated it... The second he went off the air he'd start screaming profanity laced insults about the type of women he imagined listened to the crap they made him play. He was quite creative - Karina was always afraid one of his tirades would accidentally go on the air... He also used to scream "Gebrackle!" from time to time - it seemed to make him feel better - no idea why :-)
I was poking around online the other day and it appears that the "music - only for a woman" format went into national syndication a few years later - I don't think Jeff was involved with it by then and I have no idea what became of him - I wish I could remember his last name...

Another aside:
One day when I got home from school Jeff was listening to an advance copy of a new album and he asked me what I thought of it. I responded by asking who the artist was and he gave me some goofy made up name (it was actually "Canned Heat'")... Then he lectured me about how the identity of the artist has absolutely nothing to do with whether you like a particular song or not... You have to form your own opinion based on the merits of the work and nothing else.
It was a very important lesson - one that I've never forgotten. And I've always been very grateful to him for that - and for convincing me to start washing my hair again :-)

But back to the 1968 Olympics:
I distinctly remember how proud I was to be an American when Tommie Smith and John Carlos bowed their heads in reverence and gave the "black power salute" during the national anthem. I was totally jazzed about it :-)
And I was stunned to find out that the vast majority of my fellow Caucasian-Americans didn't share my enthusiasm... As a matter of fact they were enraged that a couple of Olympic athletes (who worked their butts off to represent our country as true amateurs) actually dared to be proud of their heritage... They were all like "Hey Cletus - go get the rope!"... Unbelievable...
Then there was Bob Beamon's long jump that broke the existing world record by almost 2 feet. That was absolutely stunning... Although the record was finally beaten 23 years later at the World Championships his jump still still stands as the Olympic record - 42 years later...

So - I've been talking a bit about our financial "outgo". Unfortunately it wasn't matched by our "income"... I recall that mom briefly worked in the advertising department for Federated Department Stores (Macy's) - they had some type of regional office in San Diego at the time. But she was let go after three weeks... I guess not everyone found mom as charming as most folks did...
BTW: She was still claiming to be a widow at the time so I had to keep claiming my father had died... Sigh - I've always hated lying...

So for most of those 3 months in Mission Beach we were living on the $200 a month child support payments from dad (whose reaction was "You moved where???") and whatever mom could talk her sister Vesti out of... It wasn't nearly enough to make ends meet - and they usually didn't.