Thanks, I really DON’T need a light.

… The 80’s saw the phasing out of leaded gasoline.  For most of them you could buy both unleaded and leaded gas, which is why cars started coming with smaller inlets that had flaps over them to prevent people from putting leaded gas in their unleaded car.  That’s because using leaded gas in a car with a catalytic converter completely negates the benefits of the converter (ie: more pollution).

… I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but I had 2  Mustangs during the 80’s.  One was Christine,my beloved ‘83 convertible, and the other one was ‘Stang, which I bought for parts for the convertible.  Being a parts car (body parts, so it still ran), I decided to save a little money and mess with the fuel filler so that I could put leaded gas in it.   After all, I only needed it to last until I got Christine all repainted and ready to go.

… I figured that if I bent the little metal flap back out of the way, then the gas would flow easily into the tank, even though the leaded gas pump wouldn’t go inside the hole.  I grabbed a screwdriver and tried to bend it inward, but it just flipped right back in place when I removed the screwdriver.  Then I tried with a pair of pliers, again to no avail.  Last try, let’s see if I can bend it back with one of my fingers.  Great idea, was working until my finger slipped in between the two metal strips holding the flap on.  I don’t know if you can tell by looking at it, but it’s kind of like those little finger-handcuffs, in that the more you pull on it the tighter it gets.  I was stuck good, and just over an hour before I had to go to work (Little Caesars at the time).

… So, that’s how I got into the predicament, but the getting out is a lot funnier.  Fortunately my foster brother was home at the time and I just yelled for him.  We tried oil, we tried soap, we even tried jamming the screwdriver behind my finger to push the flap loose.  Nutin.  Getting close to working time, so I have my foster brother call my boss to tell her I was going to be a little late, maybe a lot.  She, of course, asked why and was told “Because Steve has his finger caught in the gas tank of his car.”  Yeah, right, what’s the real reason.  Foster bro told me that it took a few times before she believed him, and then she dropped the phone laughing.

STRIKE 1 – You’re going to be laughing stock of the pizza parlor (and that’s no easy feat, if ya know what I mean), when you finally get there.

… Foster brother comes out to tell me all the fun he had telling my co-workers that I was stupid enough to get my finger caught in a gas filler, with a cigarette in his mouth.

“Kenny, the cigarette!”

“What, you want one?”

… No, what I want is for you to get it the hell away from this tank full of gas that I’m stuck to, that’s what I want.

.. Now it’s been about an hour, I need to start getting ready for work, and worse, my finger is beginning to go numb.  I’m picturing it turning all black and getting ready to fall off, though that’s just my phobia.  So, I decided it’s time to call in the professionals and get my foster brother to call the paramedics.  10 minutes later there is a fire engine and a paramedic truck out in front of my house.  Even better, it’s right around 3:00 on a weekday, and we lived right around the corner from Canyon Rim Elementary. 

STRIKE 2 – The neighborhood kids walk by, see the fire and paramedic trucks and see you leaning up against a car like, best case scenario, you have your finger stuck in the gas filler.

… The paramedics try unbolting the filler and wiggling it out of the tank itself, so at least I’m away from the car.  Nope, that ain’t gonna work.  They try more oil, more soap, other tools to push that stupid flap back to get my finger out.  Still no luck.  One of the firemen asks if we have a hacksaw.

“We’ll just hack this pipe right here (pointing inside the trunk)”

“Um, uh, won’t that make sparks, gas, boom?”

“Heh, heh, yeah, and you can’t even run away.” Chuckle, chuckle.

STRIKE 3 – You get a fireman that thinks your imminent death by an exploding gas tank you got yourself stuck to is amusing.

… We compromised.   Foster brother got the hose, turned it on full force and let it run down the filler pipe while they were sawing it.  Which got me out of there in one piece, but made the car completely un-drivable until the spring thaw, since the water in the gas tank froze into one huge ice cube before I could pull the tank out and drain it.  Which defeated the entire reason I stuck my finger in there in the first place, since Christine was on the road before spring.

Anyway, my finger was a little disfigured, but still completely alive, so I got to keep it.  I got a standing ovation when I finally made it to work and a good story out of it.
And, yes, I do still have that part.  That last picture was taken today, where it sits on a sill on the chimney. 

Suprise, suprise!

When you’re 4 years old, your big brother is the coolest person on the planet.  Everything he does is cool, from slurping that last bit of milk from his bowl of Cheerios to the way he brushes his teeth in the morning.  You want to do everything he does, the way he does it.  Which is why I ended up peeing out our bedroom window.

I don’t remember exactly how long after we moved to the new neighborhood it was.  My big brother and I had the larger bedroom upstairs, basically in the attic, my baby sister had the other room to herself.  The neighbor kids were in our driveway, my brother was showing off his ability to create a pee waterfall off the garage roof.  I, of course, had to join in.  Even though the kids down below were still highly amused, my brother all of a sudden disappeared.  4 years old, I figured he just couldn’t pee any more, when out of nowhere, *SLAP*, I feel the wrath of my mother right across my bare little ass.  Shocking, to say the least.

My brother, I found out later, had heard my mother coming up the stairs and quickly hid under the bed.  I, on the other hand, was totally oblivious.  Now, I know he was only 6, but really, would it have killed him to say to me “MOM” as he hit the floor?  Maybe a tap on the shoulder?

I don’t remember if mom ever found out that big bro was a party to the whole thing.  My guess is that she knew, or at least found out.  But no matter what, his punishment couldn’t have been worse than standing there, gleefully amusing the neighborhood kids, then hearing, and feeling, the crack of mom’s hand hitting your bare skin.  Yeah, no matter what, he got off easy.  Especially since he fed his adoring little brother to the shark……

Strolling through the park one day...

This must have taken place sometime in the 30's, my mom's grandparents were a young couple at the time.  Ida, my grandmother, tells this story from one afternoon in Central Park;

They were walking through the park one warm afternoon and caught up to another young couple they did not know, walking in front of them on the path.  My grandmother reached forward and quickly goosed the girl.  The boy turned around and shot my grandfather a nasty look, as if to say "the nerve."  A few minutes later, my grandmother reached forward and goosed the girl again.  Fortunately, at this point there was a fork in the path, and my grandfather quickly led my grandmother the opposite way the other couple went.  He said to her, as the boy shot them another nasty glance, "Ida, I can't take you anywhere."