Muscle Cars

My father and brothers were all gifted with the ability to repair cars no matter how old they were or what was wrong with them mechanically. They could fix them up in no time and have them sounding good as new, sometimes with a little tweaking here and new headers there, better then new.


Because my dad had a garage behind our house that was always filled with someone’s 1972 Olds Cutlass Hurst, 1969 Chevy Nova SS, or Plymouth Fury Sport to this day I am able to identify an older model car’s make, model, and year at a glance. This ability seemed to impress people but seemed like nothing to me, I thought everyone was able to identify a 1970 Mercury Cougar with a 357 Cleveland engine at ten paces. But apparently not everyone can, it might be considered an acquired skill. Although I was never interested in getting my hands under the hood I did like to look there. It was interesting to see the different engine sizes and hear the car run smoothly after a tune-up or the installation of some headers or glass mufflers to a muscle car like a 1974 Plymouth Barracuda with dual exhaust, or maybe a 1968 Chevy El Camino.

Since the age of twelve or thirteen I could drive a standard and loved to drive my brother Dave’s 1971 Ford Mustang with a three-speed transmission through the woods, unbeknownst to my brother I would take it when he was at work and my mom wasn’t home. One time when we were visiting my gram in Six Nations , Dave had gone somewhere with my other brother Wayne Clair and left the Mustang in the drive, the maroon mustang was always calling my name, or so it seemed to me.

My cousin, Didder, and I thought it would be cool to take it for a ride around the Rez. I got to Thomas’ Corner and thought it would be really hip if I did a donut in the middle of the corner. I had done donuts many times in the middle of fields back home and figured it would be no problem, but spinning in circles in a huge open field is much different than doing a donut in the middle of the road , it wasn’t that simple. I ended up flying backward into the ditch, and then the car stalled. It took a while to get it restarted because in my haste to get out of the ditch I flooded the carburetor. I had to wait a while in order to get it started and thought for sure either Dave or my mother would drive by and catch me red-handed and red-faced. I was so glad to finally get the car started but even so it was a bit tricky for me to keep it going as I attempted to rock the car out of the ditch. My cousin wasn’t too pleased with me when I made her get out and push us out of the ditch. Her shoes and legs were all covered in mud from all her exertions and the spinning of the tires. We got enough momentum going to escape the ditch and we made it home before anyone knew we were even gone, or so I thought.

Living on a small Rez doesn’t’ really afford anyone much privacy or anonymity. Everyone knows everyone else, their mother, father, grandparents and all their business. I thought that I had really pulled one over on all parties concerned but not so, by the end of the day both my mother and brother had gotten phone calls about Didder and I being stuck in the ditch up at Thomas’ Corner.

That ended my joy riding in Dave’s mustang after that I think he must have installed a kill switch somewhere because I never could get it started again, with or without the key. My mom wasn’t too happy with my antics either and I got a damn good lickin’ with a switch I had to go and get off the tree myself, a red willow switch. Either way, after that day I limited my joy riding to one of the jalopies out back they were easy to start by touching the right two wires together and I stayed off the road. It was a breeze to get around the Rez through the various trails that wove through the woods, although most of the time I didn’t have a destination in mind I just liked to drive around and do a few donuts out in the fields by myself, relishing that sense of freedom a car, or an old jalopy, could provide me.

To this day I prefer to drive a standard to an automatic transmission, and nothing gives me greater joy than to follow someone driving a 1969 Chevy Malibu SS and hearing the deep rumbling of the engine, and the headers as they lay some rubber. That noise resonates within me and brings back the memories of the old garage behind my old homestead, and the feeling of pure delight that I always got from fast, loud cars. Not loud cars that go boom, but cars with big engines that go VROOM.

A Gift: Remember When

 
I woke up suddenly, aware of a light shining directly in my face. This is such a shock because I am sitting in the driver’s seat of my black 1997 Ford Escort at a stop sign. I must have passed out or worse been in a black out because I have no recollection of how I came to be slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious. Now as I look towards the light I heard a male voice saying “hey, hey wake up, are you alright?” I look up and see through the front windshield the stop sign, then the street sign that reads Cockshutt Road and Sour Springs Road. Across the street I could see Derris’ Sunoco station. I know exactly where I am, the question that is blaring inside my mind was how did I get here? HOW?

A horrible realization is coming into my psyche; I am drunk, I can smell the alcohol on my own breath as I put my head down in both shock and disappointment. How could this have happened, to me, sober for over twenty years? Disillusion, panic, dismay, and frustration were all feelings that suddenly entered my thought process, as subdued and muted as it is at the moment.

My door opened and I looked down and could clearly see the black pavement, a small circle lit by the flashlight being held, and the small gravel that lay on the road. Then I saw a rather large, probably size 12, black leather shoe there and looking up I see a blue stripe on the side of his black slacks and as my eyes travel further upward I see a gun holstered. He asks “Have you been drinking? Step out of the car?” I am so filled with disbelief that I cannot move, cannot fathom that this is real. All that is going through my mind is “how did this happen?” In less than a month I am set to graduate from University with a graduate degree, a job in the court system awaits me. This can’t be. I can’t be arrested for DWI; I’ve come so far and have so much to lose.

Instead of getting out of the car as his directive urges me; a thought, no a clearly discernable voice in my head says: “run.” So I do, I slam the door put the car in first gear, let out the clutch quickly as I gas it and turn right. At the first road I turn right again and am headed back towards the Six Nations Reserve. I drive faster and faster as I see the flashing lights coming behind me in my rearview mirror. I know where I can lose him I turn off my lights and know that a side road is coming up I turn down the road and quickly turn into a laneway. There are many cars parked there and they line the road in both directions. I jump out of my car and run towards the house, I’ve lost him, relief floods through me.

As I knock on the door I know where I am, I don’t wait for someone to say come in or to open the door, and I just walk in. The house is immediately familiar, my Grandmother Vera is there, as is my Aunt Spence, the house is filled with people laughing and eating. Although I know where I am I feel confused and eerily think to myself that this can’t be real because I know both my Gram and my Auntie have been dead for years. How did I find this place? I ask my Grandmother to help me; I tell her what has happened and feel shame and embarrassment in the telling and can feel the heat travel up into my face. She calls my Auntie over and we go to the door. She comforts me and promises that she will help me and we will work this all out. I wonder how it can be so.

As we leave the house I look up and down the road first and then I follow her down the steps and out to a car, her car? I can’t be sure but she gets in the passenger seat and my Auntie steps around me to get into the driver’s seat. Suddenly a large white dog is in front of me as I try to get into the back seat, its large teeth showing as it snarls and snaps at me. My Gram gets out quickly and steps between us, she opens the back door and pushes me to get in. As the door closes and she gets back in I am still wondering how this can be. My heart is pounding; sweat has dampened the back of my neck.

I wake up suddenly and am so filled with relief that it is only a dream. My heart is still pounding and my nightgown is damp with my own sweat.

Darien Lake in the 90s

I was treading water today in the wave pool at Darien Lake, all my children around me waiting for the next round of waves to start up.  It made me so happy to see all of them laughing and smiling as they bobbed up and down when the waves started anew. The thought just ran through my head, this is what life is about.  Their laughter was music to my ears and being in the water weightless just added to my feeling of being serene.

This morning as I was lying in my bed, the air conditioner already humming away i began to think about the hour drive there to Darien,  and the weather forecast calling for sun and highs in the 90s I almost wanted to rethink our excursion today.  That coupled with it was a day off for a lot of people besides me, the ride lines might be long, the kids would probably fight in the backseat all the way there and back, I could get sick from the heat and the sun like I have in the past. But in the end i threw off that old wet blanket that wanted to keep my home in front of the AC and said "OK everyone, get the lead out,  get your suits on, and lets get on the road, we're burning daylight." 

We packed some snacks and cold drinks in a cooler, I knew I was really gonnna need that ice cold gatorade today.  i didn't plan on letting the heat and humidity get the best of me today.  When we got the the park I was first disappointed, then i was pissed  that they would not let us bring our cooler into the park. I know it is all about commericalism, and i didn't want to pay $5 for a gatorade at the park that I paid less than $1 for at Tops and packed in ice. I think I had Fantasy Island on my brain and I was imagining parking our cooler in the pavilion outside the water park.  A senile moment if there ever was one. Jordan and Dylan took the cooler and the goodies back out to the car while we waited just inside the gate.  OMG the heat was atrocious.  I went in the ladies washroom and took off my top and put it in the sink and turned on the cold water.  I put it back on and came out to wait some more and Jessie asked me if i fell in. I said i was just trying to keep cool, anyway I can.

The boys came back into the park and we started walking up the main avenue lined by all kinds of high priced shops and boutiques. My only thought was to get to the water park, my sanctuary from the sun.  None of my children were ready for that first thing out of the gate.  So they headed off down towards the viper,  boomerang, mind eraser, predator, ride of steel, skycoaster, twister, ufo, and whatever else they could ride that would thrill them.  I have no desire to get thrilled on those thrill rides, because instead of getting thrilled, I only get sick. First it starts with a bit of a quesy stomach feeling and progresses rapidly to a head ache and sometimes ends with me yaking in the bathroom. That is why i try to keep hydrated with gatorade, water just doesn't do it for me.  I need cold, cold gatorade or powerade to keep me functioning. 

I went into the new Splashtown Waterpark and was instantly aghast because Hooks Lagoon was closed. I like to stand in the knee deep water and get drenched underneath the big bucket that tips over onto the waders down below.  Instead the lifeguards wouldn't even let me put my big toe in the water.  I then headed over to the wave pool and it looked like all of Western New York was already there in the water and on the peripehery.  There was not one chaise lounge to be had.  I walked into the water and then swam out to the deep end and floated around for a bit until the waves started. I love laying there with my ears submerged beneath the water so that I can't hear everyone screaming around me, it feels so freeing and like i am alone. 

After getting out of the water I then walked back to Hook's Lagoon and got one of the empty chaise lounges from there and pulled it into the shade near the wave pool.  After lying there for a while, maybe even having a 15-45 minute cap nap, i can't be sure how long it was because I didn't have a watch or a phone with me.  I realized that all the tickets were in my purse in the locker I had to rent for $11. I got up and went into the wave pool again making sure i was thoroughly soaked, had cooled my core temperature down and then I went out  of the water park to find a shady spot nearby the entry way to wait for my offspring to finally get hot enough to want to get wet.

I waited there for another 15-45 minute spell, and again am pretty sure I probably fell asleep for a bit because of the drool on my cheek when when I woke up and spotted Justin's orange Syracuse T-shirt coming towards me.  They had had enough fun on the dry rides and now wanted to try out the wet ones. I  gave them each their tickets to the water park and we headed in there so that they could cool down and we could get a break from mean old Mr. Sun.  That was when I had my moment of epiphany with them all swimming and laughing nearby, their smiles made brighter by the sun gleaming off the water.  After a few rounds of waves they again took their leave to go and ride more rides and I stayed in the water park.

They came back after a while and again i had been swimming in the wave pool near the wall. I traded water, i floated on my back, i swam back and forth doing the breast stroke and the crawl and i was cool.  I looked towards the shallow end and it seemed that there was an invisible line that keep all the swimmers within that shallow end. They looked like birds all jumping in place, pushing, and shoving each other occasionally jumping on each other's backs.  Not too many came out to the deep end even though it was only 6' deep, which was fine with me. I could swim with no one in my way, no one inadvertently slapping me or bumping into me.  It was a relaxing day with all of the populace of Western NY within my personal space.

They said they had enough fun and were now ready to head home.  We each gathered up all our assorted pieces of clothing and towels, flip-flops and bags. Went to the locker and got the rest of our stored belongings and said adieu to the park and headed home.  I looked at them all and they were all a little bit browner, Jessie a lot redder and they were tired and hungry, everyone ready to call it a day well spent in the sun. 
Happy 4th of July to all, and to all a night free of sunburn pain.

BTW, yes they did fight all the way there and all the way back, yes it was crowded, yes the lines were long, and yes it was hot and sticky all day, not a cloud in the sky. I didn't get sick and we all had tons of fun.

Rez beat down

Just like that it was fall again, and the weather had been dry and warm, just right, you might even say that a beautiful “Indian Summer” was upon us. We are all back in school and that anticipation, or was it early onset anxiety, of what classes I would be in, what teachers I would have; who would sit next to me was over. It was back to the same routine and life felt good, structured, centered again. I was in eighth grade and my cousin Karla Rose was in ninth she had moved on to the high school she was now the minnow in the big pond and I had become the big fish in the little pond that was Edward Town Middle school. We were back to waiting on the weekend to take it easy and spend time again with my friends/cousins.


There was a large walnut tree and a hickory tree on the side of my homestead close to the old gymnasium. Not only had most of the leaves fallen off and lay on the ground around the base of the trees, all dried up and russet around the edges but all the nuts had fallen to the ground as well. We collected them and piled them into two large mounds under the tree. Then we got a couple large flat rocks, probably pulled off the rock pile that was just outside of the range of the lawnmower at the backside of the yard. We had to remember to put them back when we were done or the lawnmower may be done as well when someone ran over these same rocks. I went into Dad’s garage knowing exactly what we needed to crack all those shells. I loved the smell of the garage, oil, hard work overlaid with gasoline; it smelled like Dad did after working on cars all day.

There was a claw hammer, a ball pein, a club hammer, and a sledge hammer which I knew would be too large and unweilding for us girls but the boys liked to use it; although when using the sledge hammer there wasn’t much left of the shattered nut to eat. We had to remember to put these hammers back where we got them from when we were done or we would catch hell from Dad, he hated anyone touching his tools and especially not being able to find a tool when he needed it. We sat in a circle around our respective rocks and started cracking the nuts, we all had different ways of eating the nuts, some would pick out the meat of the nut and put it in a pile and wait until they had a good sized handful or two before they ate some. Others would eat each nut immediately after they cracked it open.

The walnuts smelled so good all encased in the rough green covering, you had to first get the green coating off before you could get down to the business of cracking the shell. You could tell who had participated in this annual nut eating frenzy by the stains on our hands and all around our mouth from the walnuts. After a while all the nuts were eaten and we got this brilliant idea, albeit belatedly, that we should have saved some to put in some banana bread or maybe some cookies. Karla Rose and I decided that we should all walk down to the Tuscarora school less then a mile down the road, uphill both ways, and collect the hickory nuts from under the tree on the far side of the school by the parking lot. No one else felt like going with us so we set out together with a bag each to bring home our anticipated bounty.

We had no thoughts about our safety, nothing ever happened on the Rez. As we walked we talked easily about our favorite new shows Happy Days, Chico and the Man, (she thought Freddie Prinze was kinda cute), Emergency! (Randolph Mantooth, ditto), McCloud, Rhoda, Columbo; and our not so favorite shows Little House on the Prairie, Kung Fu, The Odd Couple, The Waltons. By the time we finished discussing the shows we were already at the school.

I can still remember what I was wearing that day, blue jeans that were low cut with bell bottoms and a flowery blouse that had poufy cap sleeves and buttoned down the front and tan Bastad clogs. The reason I can remember my clothing to this day is because of the impending violence that was to put an end to our gathering. As Karla Rose and I were busily picking up hickory nuts and trying to fill our sacks we were not aware of anything amiss. If this memory were one of those Halloween movies that scary music would queue up now. I noticed out of the corner of my eye a horse coming down Walmore Road, whoever was on it rode through the picnic grove, across the bridge and towards the school. It was a smallish horse, more of a pony than a horse, mostly white with circular chestnut colored markings all over it. There were two riders on the pony and as they got closer I turned my head to look to see who it was atop the pony. I also heard and then saw a motorbike coming towards up from further back still in the picnic grove. All of a sudden they were upon us and surrounding us asking “What are you two doing, what are you gonna do with all those nuts, where are your brothers?" Karla Rose’s two brothers were babies still; my brothers were older than me, so I knew they meant my brothers.

We weren’t scared, at first, because we knew them all, Markie Porter who lived three houses away from me and kitty-corner from Karla, Ellis Martin from Upper Mountain Road, a fair distance, and Fritzie Crogan who was related to us both through marriage, his grandfather was our uncle. It seems to me that there was a fourth boy who rode on the back of the motor bike, but I can’t for the life of me remember who he was. Then it quickly got terrifying, I don’t know how it happened as it all happened so fast. A kick landed on the side of my face from Ellis who was on the horse and I fell to the ground astonished. Then they were all off their respective rides and punching and kicking us, Karla Rose was as thin as a rail, and still is, but she could scrap all right. I had a little more meat on my bones and was used to tussling with my brothers so I gave them as good as I got. I took my clog off at one point to use as a weapon against them and I am pretty sure that I connected with a few heads because of the loud THAWP I heard as my arm swung around in a round house move and hit them in the back of or maybe it was a direct connection with the side of their melons. This assault, I guess it should be called, went on for what seemed like an eternity then as quick as it started it was over. They jumped back on their bike and pony and rode off into the sunset, almost.

We sat there on the ground crying, dazed, disbelief etched on our faces; the hickory nuts we had so meticulously packed into our sacks scattered and forgotten on the ground. We helped each other up and sort of staggered until we righted ourselves and walked home. I lost one clog in the melee and never did find it. We got home and our clothes were torn, some of my buttons ripped from my blouse, grass stains on our knees from being thrown and kicked around by these boys, not yet men. We asked each other on the way home, why? what had we done or said to provoke them? Nothing. We were there, alone, unprotected.

When we finally made it home hanging onto one another weaving our way up the driveway everyone gathered around us. We told them what had happened by then the shock had worn off and the tears started anew. My brothers assembled their posse and my sisters as well and they set off in the direction of the school to get some justice for us. At that point neither Karla Rose nor I was concerned with retribution, we were glad to have survived. The illusion that the world was a safe place had just been shattered for a lifetime.