Third Time Is a Charm

by Ed Nelson

  “That way I get everyone through the ground portion of the class at the same time. If it was you by yourself and you did your reading outside of the classroom, it would only take one third of the time.”

  He chuckled, “And we could only charge one third as much.”

  I gave a dutiful laugh, assured him I would stick with it. It reconfirmed my thoughts about all schooling. The courses were all set for the slowest and consequently held the rest back.

  That thought stopped me. I turned around and caught the instructor.

  “For a price can I get individual instruction?”

  “For a price you can get almost anything. If you’re serious let’s go to the front office.”

  We did exactly that. It turned out they wanted a twenty-five percent surcharge for a private course. That actually made sense. They could have had multiple students with the same instructor and a better profit margin. The only catch was it was to be on a time available with my current instructor, Hank Smith. This was to be considered a private deal between him and me.

  I think they did it based on Mr. McGarry being my flight instructor more than anything else. Apparently he had one heck of a good reputation locally.

  After that was arranged, Mr. Smith gave me my next assignment. I was to read and be prepared for an examination on the next two chapters. The exam was to be given immediately after the scheduled course on Friday.

  Holy Cow, what had I done?

  Later at dinner we discussed the day. There were no further developments on the motorcycle gang. Well Mary wanted a picture of me and Mum on motorcycles, but that wasn’t going to happen. Denny and Eddie thought motorcycle jackets would be neat. That wasn’t going to happen either.

  We did talk about the garage expansion. We had a meeting scheduled with an architect tomorrow afternoon. Mum also reminded us about the Friday fund raiser for George Burrill and then the Saturday charity event. Costumes were discussed; threats made, pouty faces formed (Dad), Mary waffled on the reporter idea vs princess vs fairy, all the usual as the Jackson family got ready for an event.

  I spent the evening reading my assigned multi-engine chapters.

  Before going to sleep I did read for pleasure about the little Nat and sailing by log, lead, lookout. His American Practical Navigator was a must read for even todays modern sailors.

  After my morning workout I hung out at the stable for a little while. I wasn’t being nosey, okay I was. Everything was fine the place was clean and well kept. The horses were all in good condition as far as I could see.

  At breakfast I read several letters that I had received yesterday. One was really a puzzler. It was from the Valley Forge Military Academy. A Cadet there, Cadet Rylski #6883 asked me to stop making fun of his beloved Bulgaria. I had trouble remembering when I had made fun of Bulgaria. Dad reminded me of my Hungarian and Bulgarian Princess remarks to the tabloids. I shrugged my shoulders as it was a dead issue that I wouldn’t bring up again.

  The other letter was from Judy King. I hadn’t heard from her for a long time. Her opening paragraph reminded me that I had owed her a letter for months. Maybe that is why I had not heard from her.

  She forgave me anyway and then caught me up on her life. She had been dating but nothing serious. She hoped I was fine and kept up with me in the fan magazines. She had read I was dating a Bulgarian Princess. Ouch. Other than that it was a friend’s letter reaching out to maintain a contact. As time went by we seemed to have less and less in common.

  I reflected on that thought. She was the only constant girl in my life since, well ever! I wonder what that meant. I did make a mental note to write her a reply immediately. As a matter of fact I went directly to the library after breakfast and started a letter. I cleared up the Bulgarian Princess comment I had made. I even shared Cadet Rylski’s request.

  Before lunch we had a meeting with the architect on the garage extension. He had drawings which fit all of our criteria. Mums were all about maintaining an integrated look on the outside of the structure. It was to be as though it was part of the original building and not added on.

  Mine and Dads were all about the interior functionality. Dad had included a lift to work on cars. Since it was additional space it took nothing away from what I wanted.

  My desire was a lot of workbench space, lots of electrical outlets, up to 220 ac. There would be compressed air available and the space would be well lighted, plus plenty of storage. The storage was to be a series of cabinets, open shelving and tool chests under the workbenches.

  There would be a mezzanine for additional storage. All together it would be almost two thousand square feet.

  The architect asked me what I intended to build. I shrugged my shoulders and replied, “I will think of something.”

  Dad proudly told him about how I was the inventor of the first truly usable hand held hairdryer and about the cargo container business. The way the architect’s attitude towards me changed was noticeable.

  We were to expect drawings within two weeks, but it would be four or more months before construction was completed after the go ahead had been given. That included putting the construction job out for bids. All in all that sounded reasonable to us.

  Lunch was a laid back affair with a spread of deli cuts. I noticed Dad pull a Mexicali Delight beer out of the refrigerator as we headed into the small dining room, but Mum gave a headshake before he opened it. He put it back.

  Chapter 11

  After lunch I called the studio to see if Mr. Monroe was available. He could work me in, so I headed over. I drove the non-bloodied T-Bird. The other was clean but there was something about it that gave me the heebie jeebies.

  The guard on duty was new so I had to show my ID. How soon they forget in this business.

  I only had to wait a few minutes for Mr. Monroe. He welcomed me.

  “Rick, I’m so glad you stopped by, I was going to call you about the telethon. It is on for the last week in January. There is not much happening at that time of year so we thought it would do well. Please keep that date open.”

  “Speaking of keeping that date open how are you doing on a new movie project?”

  “Actually I’m not. I’m going to spend the rest of this year and the first half of next completing the eleventh and twelfth grades. That of course depends on me being able to stay with the studio school.”

  “Is John Baxter aware of all this?”

  “Yes sir, he is taking this as an opportunity to retire.”

  “Good for him, he has earned it.”

  “Now I’m disappointed about no movie, as we always need projects, but the school is no problem. Remember we are carrying you as a permanent employee doing bit parts in movies.”

  “I forgot about that, I haven’t been called for any.”

  “And you probably haven’t noticed the money being deposited into your checking account every week.”

  I was embarrassed that I hadn’t, but then it always had at least one hundred thousand dollars in it. I just didn’t pay attention any more. That blew my mind. I had to change my ways. I could remember when a two dollar allowance was big money!

  “Mike Todd has a project underway. You might be called on for a cameo for that. There will be a lot of big names in it from all over the world.”

  “Okay, sounds good.”

  “I will let the school know there is nothing holding things back.”

  “I really appreciate it.”

  “If I may ask, what are your plans after you graduate?”

  “I’m thinking of a good technical school like MIT or Stanford.”

  “So your movie career will be on hold?”

  “I’m afraid so, it is only fair to tell you with my other ventures I may never make another one, other than the one we are doing for Jackson Enterprises. Even then I don’t have that much to do with it.’

  “That movie or information commercial you are doing is a good thing for all involved. You have always had a good reputation, but this has really put it
over the top. People want to be involved with a Jackson project.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Rick, I had my people following this debacle about the bankrupt movie. Do you realize that everyone involved that needs or wants a job has one already. That is unheard of in this industry.”

  “There can’t be that many projects go bad.”

  “You would be surprised, bankruptcies, or like a few years ago the McCarthy blacklists. Think about those. Yes some stars were fired, but if they were in the middle of a project then everyone lost their job. I take no sides on the political issues but it just wasn’t right that everyone paid for it, especially when some of the charges were proven to be false.”

  “One thing for certain about the bankruptcy there was fraud involved. It looks like the money man had gambling problems and the mob wanted their money one way or the other. He chose the other.”

  We finished up and I went over to the school house but no one was around.

  From there I headed over to Calabasas Country Club and played eighteen holes.

  After dinner it was more time in the school books. This session was spent on scholastic matters.

  At breakfast I brought up the subject of the bloody T-Bird. It turned out that Mum shared my feelings about the car. It had cleaned up well but there just was something about it now.

  A thought had occurred to me last night.

  “It really makes no sense to own two identical cars. Do you have any objections to me trading in the bloody bird?”

  It was neat to call it the ‘bloody bird.’ When I was younger Mum would have considered that swearing but she had to accept that it wasn’t swearing in America. I felt that I was getting away with something.

  Anyway she and Dad had no problem other than asking the basic question why I should replace it, why not just sell it outright and forget it.

  I stammered a bit as I tried to come up with a rational defense for my other thoughts last night.

  “Give it up Rick. What do you want to buy?”

  “Well the Chevy Corvette looks like a nice car.”

  “Just what a teenage boy needs an over-powered sports car.”

  This was from Mum.

  Dads comment was, “I read they now have a small block fuel injected V-8 with 290 HP.”

  This earned him a glare from Mum.

  “Jack!”

  “Well it is a good looking car. The kid here hasn’t got into any trouble recently, why not.”

  “And I don’t want him to get into any trouble.”

  I just had to say it, “Well maybe I could get a motorcycle instead.”

  “You most certainly will not young man. A sports car is one thing. A motorcycle is another.”

  “Okay I will stick with the sports car.”

  “Good!”

  After she said that Mum got a stricken look on her face.

  “Oh very well go ahead and buy your new toy.”

  It’s not very often I get one past Mum. I have learned that when you do you shut up immediately. The next is to go do what you just got away with. Don’t give her time to change her mind.

  I left the breakfast table quickly. I was almost to the bloody bird. Dad came with me.

  “Is the title in the glove box?”

  A quick check found it there.

  “Let’s go before she catches up with us.”

  We headed off to a local Chevy dealer who Dad knew.

  As we parked the first lot lizard approached us. Dad told him we were here to see the owner so we broke free of him. The next one was at the door. Picking up the pace Dad skirted around him and headed to the receptionist.

  The owner was in and glad handed Dad. You could see his eyes light up when our mission was explained. He introduced us to his Sales Manager who in turn gave us to a Salesman. He wasn’t either of the two we had first seen.

  He had the same last name as the owner so I think I knew how that worked. The sour look of the guy at the door confirmed my thoughts. The guy outside would be chewing nails when he heard as it was his up.

  Nothing I could do about it so I proceeded to explain what I was interested in.

  They had three Corvettes on the lot, two red and white, one black and silver. I gravitated to the black and silver convertible with the power top.

  The salesman pointed out the 8000 rpm tachometer in the center in front of the driver. He confirmed it was a small block V8 with fuel injection which gave 290 HP. He explained because of all this speed there was a new safety feature, seat belts.

  The seat belts looked pretty flimsy to me after the five point belts on the 707 but I let it go. I did like the shifter with the T handle.

  I was ready to take a test drive but the salesman kept on with his pitch.

  The salesman demonstrated the power windows which were a new feature to me. He also spoke about the RPO 684 heavy duty brakes and suspension system. This thing could take a corner.

  The 276 15” x 5.5” wheels looked good. I knew the size because he told me.

  Now I was getting impatient to drive the car.

  Instead he went on about the black interior and the fact the louvers and chrome strips from 1958 had been removed.

  I want to drive the car!

  When he started to point out the four headlamps and chrome grill I had enough.

  “May I please take a test drive?”

  “Why certainly, I wasn’t sure if you were interested.”

  “I’m interested now can we go.”

  As I was getting behind the wheel I saw Dad’s smirk. That was when I realized that the salesman had dragged his feet deliberately. I had just lost some negotiating power by my eagerness.

  I didn’t really care right then as I fired up the machine.

  I loved the rumble of the exhaust.

  It drove like a dream. As we pulled out of the lot several cute girls waved at me. Were they part of the sales effort?

  After driving the car for several miles I was ready to sign on the dotted line. Well at least ready to write a check.

  While I had been taking my test drive they had been checking the bloody bird out. We had cleaned it well, so they didn’t know its recent history.

  Chapter 12

  When we sat down to talk about price they got cute with how they showed what they would give on my trade in. The number was written down on a strip of paper. It was four digits. The salesman had them covered with his fingers.

  The first finger he removed covered the last number. It was a zero. He kept patter up trying to build some suspense but I ruined his game by pulling the paper out from under his hand. The actual number seemed fair to me, so I didn’t understand what he was trying to accomplish.

  He was not a happy camper but I was the customer so he kept on.

  “What sort of payment can you handle?”

  Now this part I understood, he wanted to know if I was a price or payment buyer. He would prefer a payment buyer as he would have more freedom to make money on financing and any other terms they could dream up.

  I was about to say I will pay cash when Dad interrupted.

  “That would depend on what you offer, what is the price of the Vette, less the trade in.”

  This put the ball in the Salesman court. Good job Dad!

  He wrote down a price. Why don’t they say these things?

  Dad continued, “What would be the payment if Rick put ten percent down or twenty percent?”

  Numbers were calculated his machine clacking away. He gave the two numbers the twenty percent down resulting in a lower number.

  “Okay, now refigure after the dealers discount, also I saw in the paper that Chevy was making an allowance so include that in.”

  With a frown the Salesman entered the numbers, spoke directly to Dad.

  “So here’s the payment for twenty percent down.”

  The guy had finally figured out who was really running this show.

  “If there was a larger down payment could you come down a little
more in the price?”

  “I could only reduce it the amount of the payment.”

  “Well then we need to be going there is a dealer out in the Valley that can do better.”

  We stood up to leave. The Salesman had the T-Bird keys in hand. I reached for them, but he pulled back.

  “We need to talk about this some more.”

  I just kept my hand out for the keys. He showed no sign of giving them back.

  Dad asked, “So what else can you offer?”

  The Salesman sat back down with a small smile. He figured he had Dad and I trapped as long as he had our keys. I changed that game by grabbing his wrist with my left hand and twisting the keys out of his hand with my right.

  “I could have you arrested for assault.”

  “And you for attempted car theft.”

  “Now boys settle down and what do you have to counteroffer with.”

  I found that a little funny as we, well Dad, had offered nothing yet.

  “I will have to get this approved by my Sales Manager but this is what I think we can do.”

  He left the room and I was about to open my mouth when Dad held his finger vertically over his lips. Was this office wire tapped? After five minutes of letting us stew the Salesman and his Manager came back in.

  “Well this will take us to the bone but we can do it.”

  I took a chance, “Another one percent and I will sign the deal here and now.”

  As I said this I laid out the T-Bird title and set my checkbook beside it. The Sales Manager hemmed and hawed but came around to my price.

  The number I was interested in was cost of the car less the trade in, but apparently they thought I was going to put twenty percent down.

  “Before I finalize this Rick we also sell car insurance on the vehicle and insurance to cover the loan if you have to default. Also there is undercoating for rust.”

  “We have an insurance agent we use, I don’t need insurance on a loan and I haven’t seen much salt on the road here in California to need a rust inhibitor.”