CHAPTER ONE: LOW-RIDER
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REAR VIEW MIRROR THE CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE
C. Callinsky
PART ONE: TRUE LOVE
Chapter One: Low-Rider
It’s a beautiful August evening in Tacoma, Washington. This is where I have lived my whole life, and in the same house at that. It is 1990; my sister, friends, and I have been a part of the music scene that surrounds the Tacoma/Seattle area for a couple of years now. We like underground clubs, and have many friends that own VW Buses because they are in bands and need to be able to pack up all of their equipment and move it at the drop of a hat. They are constantly being forced to move from practice pad to practice pad because no parents can stand the raw sound of their music for extended periods of time.
I guess you could say that we have been part of the grunge scene for the last two years, and the word grunge doesn’t even exist yet. It won’t exist until the world labels it as such due to the introduction of Nirvana.
I have been working on installing a new audio system in my “new for me” 1970 burgundy metal flake M.G. Midget, and I’m almost done. You wouldn’t be able to tell, though, from all of the wiring and old speakers lying around the car. I’m up to my elbows in high tech, high fidelity car electronics and I couldn’t be happier.
Now, before we go any further, let me get one thing straight. I’m not your normal chick. I love classic vehicles, electronics, and NFL football. I was a tomboy growing up, but when I hit junior high school, you could say that I really bloomed. I played softball and was a cheerleader my freshman, junior, and senior years. I have always been pretty outgoing and happy-go-lucky. Through high school I was described as Cindy “the bubbly one”.
I was friends with everyone and was known for sticking up for the underdogs. I hated when people got picked on. It was times like these that the bubbly one quickly became the angry one.
I stand almost five feet eight inches tall, and have brown hair with too much gray. Not regular gray either; it is twice as thick as my regular hair and Phil Donahue silver. I started noticing it in my ninth grade year. What a year that was, but that’s a whole different story. The summer before I went to high school I started lightening it. Over the years, it has become lighter and lighter. It is currently really light sandy brown.
I have owned some cool cars in the past. At eighteen I bought a ‘66 Mustang, three-speed-on-the-floor with a Pony interior. I had also been known to rock Tacoma at nineteen with my ‘74 Super Beetle. I have installed systems in every vehicle I have ever owned, but none were as nice as this system. Plus, none of my other vehicles were convertible. I’m now twenty and will be twenty-one in a few months so I can’t wait until I get this system installed and cruise Ruston Way with the top down, jamming. I only have a few months of Ruston Way hanging out left.
- Ruston Way Tacoma, Washington
Ruston Way is the hang out place for anyone who is old enough to drive, but is under twenty-one. It is a strip that runs along the bay also known as the “Waterfront”. During the day, it is frequented by fishers, skateboarders, roller-bladers, joggers, picnickers, and people just hanging out enjoying a beautiful day. There is lush green grass along the whole strip and multiple park areas with beautiful gardens. Stone accents are scattered along the front. There are a lot of docks for people to fish from. When the sun goes down, it is where everyone that is anyone goes to hang out.
Anyway, as I’m wrapping up the connections to my speakers, I look up and see Candie. She is my resident partner in crime. She has really long naturally sandy brown hair, and currently sports a spiral perm. I could say a lot of things about Candie, but the one thing that sticks out is her smile. She has a really sweet smile. I have known her as far back as I can remember. She is one year younger than I am so she has more Ruston left in her than I do.
She is one of the sweetest people you could ever meet, but she doesn’t have a clue when it comes to vehicles. The girl’s oil light came on in her Beetle and she ran it without oil. Needless to say, that multi-colored Beetle bug is now in the graveyard. Currently, she owns a Honda Civic and she understands the importance of those little lights on her dashboard. I guess that is why we get along so well; we complement each other almost perfectly.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I know where a party is tonight. Wanna go?”
I shake my head, still bending over to get that damn wire connected, “I don’t know. I really want to cruise tonight. I’m almost done with this system and I’d like to enjoy it. I can’t if we hit a party.”
Candie smiles, and unleashes a secret weapon. “But there’ll be lots of guys there. Come on.”
“I don’t want to. Why don’t you come with me and we can cruise Ruston?” After working on this car all day, I was really looking forward to some good tunes, a long drive, and some quality time spent between friends.
Resting her hands on her hips, Candie gets into her best pouting pose. “You’ve gotta go. I just met a really nice guy. He’s in the Army. He’ll be there. Come on. You owe me.”
I don’t like to hang around guys in the military. You might end up liking one. That isn’t bad, but the fact that they aren’t here to stay is. A couple of years ago, I hooked up with a guy that I knew from high school who was on leave from the Army. When he left, it really hurt and I didn’t even love him. So, I try to stay away from men in the military.
The problem now is that Candie’s right. I do owe her, and she is my sidekick. She has bailed me out of a lot of bad situations. I remember one time we got a hold of some vodka and bought some orange juice. We walked down to Old McKinley Park and sat on a bench and talked all night. She drank the orange juice and I drank the vodka. Needless to say, I was in pretty rough shape that night. I could barely stand up.
Somehow, Candie managed to get me all the way to my block. We were almost home when I started getting sick in every yard. She took me back to her house for the night. In the morning, she went to my house and occupied my mom while I snuck upstairs and changed into my nightgown. I bounced down the stairs like nothing had happened and my mom was never the wiser.
I have also spent many weekends with her at the ocean. Almost every time she and her mom would go to Ocean Shores they would take me with them. Let me tell you, I met a lot of really hot guys there over spring break. Man, there is nothing like hanging out at the sand dunes all day, getting sun, and playing pool until the wee hours of the morning with guys that you can only hope to see again in the summer.
She also helped me get my job with AT&T. She works there, as well. Her mom has worked there for years. It is temporary and it should have already ended, but it has been a good job, so I suppose I will stay until they don’t need me any longer.
I prefer working with people face to face, though. At AT&T, you get to talk to people day in and day out, but there is no real association involved.
Knowing that she will probably go into these things and more, I give in to save the time. “OK Candie. I’ll go, but if it sucks, I’m not staying.”
“Thanks. I know you’ll have a total blast.”
“I hope so.”
I go back to work installing my subwoofers behind the seats. The amplifier and the Denon receiver have been installed. All of my cassettes are ready to rock ‘n’ roll. Once I get it all done I head inside, clean up, and get myself pretty. Even though I may be a bit of a tomboy, I still know how to clean up and turn on the charm.
After a quick look in the mirror, we jump into the M.G. and head out to an apartment complex off 72nd and McKinley. Jamming to Gene Loves Jezebel with the top down, the wind blowing through our hair, I feel as if life can’t get much better than this. It is getting harder to go to this damn party by the minute.
We finally find the place and bounce in. Even though the apartment is a bit small, there are actually a lot of people here. Some people are dancing and some others are playing quarters at a little fake oak table. This is so not the type of party I would normally hit.
All of the sudden, I feel something deep inside. I feel some sort of energy. I know it sounds loopy, but it’s so true. I scan the room again and BAM… I’m locked on a guy that is sitting on a stool. He has black hair, beautiful big brown eyes, and a tan that looks like he just got back from a year’s vacation off the coast of Hawaii. He has on a black, long-sleeved Jimmy’z shirt, khaki pants, and black Vans. His jaw line is stronger than Kurt Russell’s. On top of all that, he has thick black eyebrows that make his eyes pop.
As I’m checking him out, he catches me. Now I feel stupid.
Where in the hell did this guy come from? He wasn’t there a minute ago and they sure don’t grow them like this in Washington.
I pull Candie aside and ask her, “Who is he?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
Candie runs off to find this Army guy that has her panties in a bunch. I stand there checking out the place, trying to fit in and look cool. Again, not a party of my typical choice, but I would go anywhere just to have a chance to meet this guy.
Candie comes swooping back with great news. “His name’s Jimmy, and he’s not taken.”
“Thank you, Lord,” I mutter under my breath.
I sort of slide towards him and introduce myself.
“Hey, my name’s Cindy.” I extend my hand out.
“I’m Jimmy,” he replies as he shakes my hand and tries hard not to make eye contact. He is fidgeting as if he is uncomfortable. No doubt, this guy is really shy. As I shake his hand, I notice that he is wearing a beautiful gold class ring with a dark blue stone in it.
“Where ya from, Jimmy?” I ask, trying to strike up a little conversation.
“Cali.”
That explains a lot. I knew they didn’t grow them like this in Washington.
“Man, that’s really cool. So do you like surf and stuff?”
Bingo! Jimmy finally makes eye contact. “I love surfin’ and skateboarding.” A warm smile spreads across his face, and I can tell that he’s genuine.
That explains the digs. Vans are skateboarding shoes! Jimmy’z represents the surf society. Actually, they sponsored Christian Hosoi, too. That’s another story, though. Anyway, this man doesn’t just look good in the clothes; he actually represents the lifestyle.
“That must be why you’re so tan.”
He looks a little embarrassed. “Yeah, my mom’s Filipino and Hawaiian and my dad’s Indian and German, so that helps.”
I’m grinning now, “Yeah, well I’m half Polish and half Heinz 57 and I know every Polish joke there is to know.”
Jimmy smiles and we both start laughing.
“So Jimmy, what’re ya into?”
“Music.”
“Do you have a favorite group?”
“I don’t know about a favorite? That’d be hard ‘cause I like so many of them.”
“What kinds of music do you like the most?”
“My favorite’s older alternative, like The Smiths and New Order. I like Tesla, too. Stuff like that.”
Okay, I’m in heaven. This is too good to be true. I don’t know any other man that likes this type of music. “Well, I take it you’ve heard of Depeche Mode and The Cure. How about Echo & The Bunnymen?”
“Oh yeah!”
I’m smiling. “Psychedelic Furs?”
Now we are both grinning from ear to ear as Jimmy nods and replies, “Love ‘em, too.”
“I can’t believe you even know who those groups are. That’s so cool.”
We just sort of gawk at each other in amazement when it dawns on me that I have to show him my new stereo set up. This is a good chance to connect even more on a music level, show him my cute car, and prove the fact that I’m not afraid to do shit myself. I smack Jimmy softly on the arm, “Hey, you have to come and check out my system. I just got done installing it right before Candie and I headed over here.”
Jimmy hops off the stool. “Cool.”
I’m excited as Jimmy follows me outside. This guy is pretty cool. I have never met anyone that knew who all of those groups were, and he is really hot on top of that. There is probably something wrong with him and I just don’t know what it is yet.
Music has always been very important to me, since the first time I can remember hearing it. It’s the only thing in the world that I really feel at one with. I mean, there are certain groups whose lyrics make me feel as if I could have written them. It’s like therapy for me.
I’m very eclectic when it comes to music. I listen to all sorts of different styles. Even though alternative is my favorite, there are times when dance, R & B, or heavy rock is more fitting for the occasion.
There is nothing like lying in the middle of the floor listening to really good music and taking it all in. It helps me stay in touch with who I really am.
Jimmy is eyeing my M.G. “This is yours?”
I’m grinning like a proud parent. “Yep, cute huh?”
“Yeah! I bet it’s fun, too.”
I’m still grinning. “Man, you have no idea.”
I turn off the alarm and Jimmy jumps into the passenger side as he is checking out the interior.
I start the car and crank up Gene Loves Jezebel’s “Jealous”.
“Man that sounds awesome!” Looking at me impressed, he asks, “You installed it yourself?”
“Absolutely! I have been installing stuff in my vehicles for a while. This is my fourth car. My first one was a Chevy Blazer passed down from my dad. Then I got a ‘66 Mustang, a ‘74 Super Beetle, and now this. I have installed a system into each of them. The Mustang was the hardest. I didn’t want to cut the dash so I had to make a mount for the receiver behind the stick shift.”
Jimmy looks shocked. “Wow, that’s really cool.”
Okay, this is good. I think he is really impressed. I hope he doesn’t see it as tomboyish. Jimmy climbs out of the M.G. and waves for me to follow him, “Now I have to show you my ride.”
I follow him and can’t help but check out his ass. It’s a nice one to say the least.
I follow Jimmy’s nice ass around the corner of the building and an alarm beeps and the lights blink on a baby blue low-rider Nissan. Shit! This thing is awesome. It has a hot pink full body bra, kick-ass rims, and a hot pink tonneau cover.
Jimmy walks around to the passenger side and opens the door for me. I gladly jump in. The inside is immaculate and smells of coconut. I definitely have visions of palm trees swaying in my head.
Jimmy cranks the Nissan, turns on the stereo, and The Smiths “How Soon Is Now” starts pumping through his system. It sounds wonderful. He definitely has more money in his than I do mine, but then you can’t fit very big subwoofers into an M.G.
I’m astounded as we sit there. Man, this guy is too perfect. There has to be something wrong with him. He must be a player or something because I’m just not this lucky.
I turn to him, gleaming. “Jimmy, this sounds awesome! It really does. I’m impressed. I love what you’ve done with the Nissan, too. Usually I don’t like low-riders because they are so half-ass done, but yours is totally cool.”
He grins sweetly. “Thanks.”
We head back inside and talk for hours and hours about everything under the sun. We are up way past the time that everyone else has crashed from too much alcohol.
Finally tired, we sprawl out on the floor and talk some more. We are lying there, looking into each other’s eyes, talking about our families. He tells me about his mom and dad being divorced and his dad being remarried. I tell him about my dad and his new woman, and that my mom died, although I don’t go into details. We have so many things and feelings in common that it is almost freaky.
There is something so sweet and honest in Jimmy’s eyes that I feel like I could get lost in them. I feel like I have known him for years. I feel such electricity laying next to him that I badly want to kiss him, but I don’t because I know he is shy.
Jimmy must feel something too because he slowly reaches over and grabs my hand as he is still looking in my eyes. I squeeze his hand softly so he knows that it is being well received and we fall asleep with our hands interlocked.
What seemed like a few seconds later, Candie wakes me up from my bliss. She is speaking very quietly. “We have to leave. You have to work.”
“Candie, there is no way I’m leaving, besides this job was supposed to have ended last month. It was temporary, remember?” All I can think about is this guy that is sprawled out next to me and the electricity that I can still feel. There is no way I’m going to work at a time like this.
We hang out until Candie has to leave for work. I’m responsible for my demise with AT&T, but I can’t cost Candie her job.
When we leave, I write my number on a piece of paper and place it underneath a wiper blade on Jimmy’s low-rider. As we ride off, Candie catches me staring in my rear view mirror, watching Jimmy’s truck shrinking in the distance. Normally, we would have spent the next few minutes talking about the party and stuff, but this time is different. She looks at me with that sweet smile, and then settles into her seat without another word. I have just had the most memorable night of my life, and for right now I want to keep it private, so we crank up The Smiths and motor on.
Copyright © 2006 – Infinity C. Callinsky
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Sincerely,
Cindy Callinsky
