The Saga, Part 2 -- How to Rent a Destroyer
While standing in line at the rental car office, I noticed that everything was moving along with a minimum of fuss. Various businessmen went to the desk, handed over their sheaf of papers, signed a few dotted lines, were given their keys, and left to get their car. It was short, sweet, and business-like. No one but me seemed to have any luggage, other than a carry-on bag, and I had an over-abundance. I had no idea that I was getting ready to witness a fiasco of international proportions.
The man in front of me was of medium build, not muscular, but wiry. He had a huge handlebar mustache. In fact, it could be said that his mustache wore his face well, for it was truly magnificent! I was standing well to the back of him, because I really didn't want to crowd someone with a mustache of such momentous proportions. He glanced at me, his eyes passing over me as a person of no consequence. He must have waxed his mustache, because it turned up merrily in the corners, and stretched from sideburn to sideburn across his face. I glanced at my luggage again, tallying boxes and shapes, and it was Mustache's turn at the desk.
The woman at the desk, faded back from her papers, and a very tall, heavily built, defensive lineman-type guy stepped up in her place. To my eyes, Football Guy seemed to grow larger by the second, as he drew his chest up and squared his shoulders. Mustache stalked to the counter and threw his papers on the counter, Thwap! I took a step backward, my eyes widening. Mustache began waving his arms, screaming unintelligible gibberish at the Football Guy. I have no idea what was said, but it was clear that the Mustache was not happy. Football Guy took this for a while, then said firmly, "No. We can't do that."
Mustache delivered yet another harangue, screaming forceful gibberish, stomping his feet, and waving his armsmenacing to all. He kept pointing to a card, and, screaming the only words I understood, "Deeplomatic EEmunitee!" Football Guy seemed to become even larger, and then neatly stacked the papers, calmly handing the papers toward Mustache, a muscle in his jaw flexing. Mustache, in a final fit of anger, dashed the papers to the floor, drew a line across his throat in the international symbol of "I cut your throat", spat on the floor, and stalked out.
Football Guy, still very large and still very annoyed barked, "NEXT!" Golly, that was me! Round-eyed, I stepped up to the counter, and handed him my papers. Football Guy glanced through the papers, then tossed them onto the counter, looked at me like I was a bug just waiting to be squashed, and sneered, "We don't have a car for you." I blinked in surprise. No car. Never had I made a reservation for a car, paid for a car, and not had one when I got there.
At this point, it may be helpful to explain my physical appearance. I am five feet tall, so I came up to about Football Guy's diaphragm. Many deli/business/doctor's counters, (this one included), are so tall I can rest my chin on them. At this point in my life, I weighed 95 pounds, soaking wet. I had reddish-blonde, fluffy hair that I curled to make it do something. Big people like Football Guy think that I am easily intimidated. I have learned through the years to let them think that, because it makes them feel better. And they are right, in a fist fight, I'm deadbut my challenge to them is mostly mental, not physical. At that time in social evolution, no one thought that this little Hick could ever have a brain bigger than a proton.
In one breath, I assumed that Football Guy was not going to be 'moved' by a temper tantrum. I stepped back from the counter, so that Football Guy could see he was talking to a person, not a head stuck on the desk. I looked him in the eye, and said in my soft, slow, southern voice, "You must have a very difficult job, having to deal with angry people all day. I am truly sorry that the Mustache Man was so unpleasant, sir." Football Guy stared stonily out the plate glass windows at the 50 or so cars parked in the lot. The woman standing behind him slowly looked up from the floor at me. Not at all deterred, I asked, "Would you mind taking a look at my map, sir, and helping me figure out a way to get where I need to be?" I fumbled my map out of my purse, and put it up on the counter.
"You see, sir, I need to be in Great Neck, and at my hotel tonight, which is right about here." I stood on my tiptoes and pointed to the first dot on the map, "and in the morning, I've got to go to work and run a pumping test over here at the City's well field, which is about 10 miles this way and up this little draw... You see it there, don't you, sir?" I tapped the map with my finger and Football Guy took a small glance at it.
"I've heard sir, that there are some really nice properties out there, and, of course you know all about that. But, if they are that nice, well that means there are usually quite large properties. Sir, if I have to walk down this lane here, I think it is Westinghouse Way, and when they say five houses on the left, then turn right, well, you can see what a long way that is, sir. You see I'm a bit afraid that there won't be any, uh, public facilities near the well field sir, and you know that we all have to use those, uh, some time. And then, sir, I've got to be able to go and get my crews some lunch, and you can see that it is a whole lot of driving back and forth to do, especially since I'm going to be here for three weeks, sir. And, sir, I just don't know how I'll manage to do what I need to do without a car. Especially, since the city is looking to me to keep them in water, sir."
Slowly, Football Guy's eyes came to rest upon my face, and his shoulders began to relax. The woman next to him was beginning to gape at me. Encouraged, I continued, "I know you understand sir, why it is important for me to be able to get from one place to another, to keep the City in water, sir, and I just don't know how I'll do it without a car to drive, even if I can read a map. Sir, do you think that you could arrange for an upgrade or a downgrade just so I can have something to drive, sir? I don't mind paying extra, sir, and I would really appreciate any help that you could give me." And I smiled brightly at him, confident in his basic decency as a human being.
HOOK! He fumbled with the papers, and pointed, wordlessly, to where I needed to sign. Then, he turned to the huge board of keys behind the counter, and picked out a nice key with the word Cadillac on it, and handed it to me. The woman behind me smiled broadly, and I politely thanked them both. He nodded, mesmerized by my soft voice and sympathy.
At this exact moment, Mustache threw open the door, dragging a policeman in with him, and screaming so that the blinds on the door quaked, and a large stack of papers scattered to the floor. He saw me with a Cadillac key in my hand, and stopped in his tracks. Screaming curses, he took three steps towards me, hands outreached to strangle this, this, mere woman-- and the policeman reached for his Billy club. In one fluid motion, his Billy club was out of its carrier and under Mustache's chin. Mustache, subdued, stood still, and for the first time since he began his harangue, shut up.
Football Guy came around the end of the counter with the ease of a gazelle, scooped up most of my stuff, and said, "Come ON!" As he ducked through the door, I grabbed the rest of my gear, and followed him to my car, a very large Cadillac. We threw everything in the back seat. He put me in the car and said, "Got everything?" I nodded. "GO!"
I patted his arm and said, "Take care of yourself, sir!", and floored it. I made a decent speed for a couple of blocks, then, I hit another little snag. I couldn't see out of the car. I had forgotten my cushion.
Now, I know that no one but me is restricted to a cushion on their driving license. But, thanks to the Canadian Mounty Hat worn by the state police officer who administered my driving test and was 6'8" tall, I must have a cushion to drive a car legally. When I took my driving test, we had a car with an adjustable, electric bench seat. Col. Pate, who was the epitome of State Police integrity, intimidation, and infallibility, got in my car, filled out my basic paperwork, and said, "Go."
Well, first, I had to adjust the seat so that I could see out of the car, since my mother had driven us there, so I used the little joystick on the side of the seat and Rnnnn Rnnnn Rnnnn, moved the seat all the way forward, and all the way up. I was just about ready to put the car into Drive, when Col. Pate said, "Move the seat down and back." I glanced over at him with a sinking heart. His long legs were jackknifed under the seat and his hat was smashed on his head, all the way down over his eyes. I apologized, and moved the seat back down, rnnn rnnn rnnn. Col. Pate adjusted his hat, rearranged his legs to the side, and said, "Continue." He was a man of few words.
I passed my driver's test, but Col. Pate, his dignity bruised, marked my license as restricted to a cushion. So, no matter where I was, or what I was driving, I had to have a cushion to sit upon. I found this to be most annoying, but since I had just signed my life away for this rental car, I felt that I had better be legal. Not to mention that it was probably a really good idea to stop and make sure I could see out of the car, period. I felt like I sitting in the bottom of a very large, padded, luxurious bathtub. If I stretched high as my neck could reach, I could almost see out of the driver's side window.
Fortunately, I was able to pull onto a side street with little traffic, and get out, finding my briefcase to sit on. That helped, but wasn't quite enough to actually see over the dash, so I added my purse to the stack. Then, I could adjust the mirrors of this monster car, and find my way to the Long Island Expressway. Two right turns and a wrong turn later, I stumbled across an entrance ramp.
From my view, a long line of cars was zipping by, without a paper's thickness between them. They looked like they were pulled along by a string; all glued together like cars on a speed train. I sat at the light, waiting to get on the ramp, my heart sinking to my shoes Would I make it?
Thanks so much for coming by!
Part 3 tomorrow! 
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Part 2 of The Adventure!
I truly thought that Moustache was going to kill me there for a second. Football guy turned out to be a sweetheart-- all he needed was a few kind words. Besides, I didn't talk like anyone there, anyway, and he likely had to listen pretty closely to understand me. Oh, and the picture of the car doesn't, in any way, convey its actual size-- it was a MONSTER! It was a lot like riding in the belly of a Great White...
I hope you enjoy this!
Even the ordinary events of your life turn out to be adventures ... BTW what car rental company was this ?
I wish I could remember. It was one of the big ones, I know. Only a big one would have an office in Owensboro, so I want to say Hertz. They were in business back then, and they serviced our somewhat out-of-the-way airport. Back then, it wasn't such a big deal to rent a car, and a phone call did the trick. Airplane reservations were the same way, you just called them up, told them where you wanted to go and gave them a 'window of opportunity'. Pretty soon, I could drive to the airport and pick up my ticket, pay for it with the company credit card, and I was on my way.
By this time, I had flown a fair amount, and had always had a car, ready and waiting for me when I got there. Flying was still a complete novelty, as I had spent my life at the airport, looking for something, anything, to either land or take off...
Most of life is one long adventure! How fun! Maybe it is in my attitude, to look for funny things as they happen. Funny things happen all the time, if you're just receptive...
Today, my little sparrow friends at work were lined up at the window, looking at me, obviously saying, "Mama! Where's the food?" One of them landed wonky and knocked about five of them off the window sill, like dominos... The rest flew away because I KNOW they heard me laughing at them. I love my little sparrow babies...
Oh that was too funny. Moustache guy probably owed tickets and that was why he wasn't getting a car. Here people who work at the various countries Consulates seem to think that " Deeplomatic EEmunitee!", means that a private company has to do what the police have to let them get away with. They don't.
On the other hand, you played that scene perfectly!
I'm trying to picture little you in that big car. I am 5'7" and my car was a retired NYPD car, a Ford Fury. It had command seating which is how I like to sit, even today, So I can understand your distress about not seeing properly over the dash. I have to say that I never heard ofmandatoryseat cushions, but hey what do I know? My mom is tiny like you, so I have seen what a set of eyeballs peering over a dash looks like.
And now the L.I.E.... we used to have a bumper sticker that said "Pray for me, I travel the L.I.E."
I think you were about to find that out.
I always wondered what was up with him... And Football guy turned out to be so nice! I just had to 'sweet talk' him a little. I kept talking to calm him down, so he could see that I was no threat. And, I didn't care what I drove, I just wanted a car. After all, the water company was paying for it...
BUT, that Caddy was HUGE. I was used to driving my Ford Grenada, aka The Semi-Mobile Piece of Junk.The Caddywas luxurious, magnificent, and desperately needed its tires balanced! As in, JUST WAIT!
My great Aunt Lois was 4'6", and drove a 1958 Buick. Uncle Louie had the seat built up for her, and screwedblocks of solid wood to the gas pedal and brake pedal... And still, she could only see between the steering wheel and the dash... She drove until she was 89, and THAT was a hoot!
I am actually one of the taller women in the family. Aunt Lois and Grandma thought I was giant-- because I was 5' tall. I guess it's all a matter of perspective.
What is command seating? Mandatory seat cushions.... NO ONE had ever heard of it. It was listed under "Other" on the restrictions part of the driving license. Finally, I found a small blow up cushion for swimming pools. I deflated it, stuffed it in my carry-on, and from then on, used that to see out rental cars... But, WHAT a pain! About 15 years ago, I had to retake my driver's test, to prove I could drive a car without a cushion. Never mind. I passed the test, but still use a cushion or two to see out of the car-- it gives me better control. What really bugs me, is that to reach the pedals, I have to ram the seat all the way up, and then the steering wheel is embedded in my chest. Sigh!
Much love to you, Perrie! I hope you are enjoying these!
Great use of your noggin.
My grandma had a 4 door Oldsmobile, I swear the car was 25 feet long (well, I was a kid, so everything was big). She was 5 feet or around there. Didn't have to use cushions though. I remember my brother and I sliding around in the back seat.
Thanks for entertaining!
Ha!
Destroyer...
...like driving a ship alright!
:~)
Great story Dowser.
You are very welcome!
In parts of KY, whole families live in those cars... As sad as it is, they are pretty roomy, for sure!
Thanks, Larry-- I'm getting ready to put up #3, the Long Island Expressway...
That IS a tank-- And it looked a LOT like the Caddy I had to drive. Golly, that thing was BIG, and all the parking spaces were built for bicycles... I felt very tiny in that HUGE car!
Thanks, Larry, for coming by! I hope you are enjoying these!
I couldn't even remember such a wealth of detail from so many years ago. This was a fun read -- I think I missed this episode and caught up with the story a few more snippets down the road.
I would never have thought that showing a counter-clerk where you had to go for your hydrology job would work in getting someone a car. Amazing, truly amazing.
And yeah, those Caddys back then were like boats -- they were ocean liners!!!
Thankfully, I found my field notes that jogged my memory-- but this whole trip, which changed my life in so many ways, was sort of tattooed on my brain all these years...
I didn't know you were here!!!! Welcome!!! So glad to see you!
And YES, those caddies were like big boats... You could drive over a ditch and never feel it...
Poor Dowser. Reminds me of the first bit of cab driving I did up there. I can sympathize with you completely, and I hope you found another cushion.
Did I tell you this is fascinating! You should have this published, I would certainly buy it. It's great!
Dowser, I could never ride with you driving. You, on the other hand would have plenty of room with me driving unless you were in the back seat. I was 6'2" before osteoporosis got me, now, I'm 5'10", and I have to have the seat all the way back.
I would give my eye teeth to be 5'2" or something, just a hair taller... I can barely reach the edge of my top shelf in the kitchen, and have learned to climb on things to get where I need to be. All the doorknobs hit me in the upper arm, or bang my elbows blue... Advantage: I never see the top of the refrigerator, so I don't know if it needs cleaning or not...
So easy to ignore what one does not see...
Thanks very much! I got used to sitting on things to see out. Now, I still have cushions, and it helps, a LOT.
You're so sweet! I need to continue, but I've been so sick all week, I just haven't had the heart to get them out...