A story from my childhood...

Maria,

You had the second coolest car of my childhood.

Tommy Ritter wins with his Trans-Am Firebird. When he used to roar down the street to pick up Teresa, I thought that he was the coolest thing in the history of the world. He probably was...and may still be.

I believe that you had a 1980s Dodge Charger hatchback. I could be wrong, but it looked a lot like this picture. I used to see you drive by me almost every day that I walked home from the bus stop at the G.E. Maier Building. I used to hate that walk home because no one else on Bryn Mawr or Parkview took the bus.  I only took the bus because I thought that would be the best way to help me become cool. It didn't work.

On one particular day, when I was in the third or fouth grade, I had to go Number 2 so badly when I got off the bus. I begged the Reece boys (Joe and Tony) to let me use their bathroom.  They lived on Warder. They said that their mom told them that no one could come over that day or they would be punished. Looking back, I think that Mrs. Reece would have been perfectly fine with me using their toilet.

I continued to walk down Northern Parkway (by myself) trying my best not to have an accident.  It didn't work.  So, for the first time since I was in diapers, I pooped in my pants. I kept on waddling down the street praying that no one would see me, but knowing better. Luckily, we had to wear those dark blue pants so no one would be able to tell unless they got too close or I started leaving a trail.

You came around the corner (most likely from the Marlins) and pulled up next to me. Normally you would just say, "Hi, Jon!"  However, on this fateful day, you asked "Hey, Jon!  Want a ride?"

I was mortified. I didn't know what to do. I had always wanted to ride in your sports car, but I had a load in my pants. the id/super ego fight was going full bore.

"No, thanks," I finally replied. You look surprised, and maybe a little hurt, but you drove on. I waddled home and my mom was teaching piano lessons. She put me in the bath tub and I wallowed in my self-pity.

I didn't make eye contact with you for at least two weeks. I never found out if you knew.

BPJ