First of two parts
[img]1988|right|Mr. Corlin||no_popup[/img]By the time I work up the nerve to ask someone out, she is married and has two kids. That actually happened to me. I finally had enough nerve to ask Lady X out for a dinner date and show.
A good friend was the production manager at one of SoCal’s best live theaters, and sometimes I took him up on his offers for two free seats, fourth row center. Styx was the band playing that night. I figured nothing could go wrong.
At the time, my everyday driver was a 1948 Packard sedan with no power steering or air conditioning. Los Angeles was enduring a blistering heat wave. I thought I should take the car my dad gave to me when he purchased a new one. His gift: A 1988 Lincoln Town Car with 22,000 miles. It looked like new, drove fine, and it had air conditioning.
Lady X agreed to go with me. I guess she was a Styx fan. When we walked toward the street from her posh Westchester apartment, she pointed a finger at my car. Sarcastically, she inquired, “Is that your car?”
“Yes,” I confessed, with a measure of sheepishness.
Not Thinking Fast Enough
In my mind, I was complimenting her on her good taste because this certainly would be a classic car some day. Her comment, however, was less complimentary.
She just blurted out, “I can’t believe I am going out with someone who drives a car like this.”
In retrospect I should have immediately feigned an acute case of Dengue
Fever and left her standing on the sidewalk in front of her apartment.
Since I had overcome my shyness and asked her out, made dinner reservations, had tickets waiting for a great show – it was too late to turn back.
It takes 45 minutes to drive to the theater/restaurant complex, and I was glad to have the air conditioning on high. She must have been glad, too, because she never broke a sweat during the 30 minutes of haranguing I received while driving to our destination.
Suffice to say the nicest thought she expressed was that she never had been in a car this old.
A Tirade That Lives Forever
No joking here. She did not let up on me until the car sputtered to a stop.
We were 15 minutes from our destination, and my car either overheated in the torrid weather, or folded from her constant berating. Either way, we were stuck.
Luckily, we would have to drive past the Hollywood Bowl, where my car collapsed. Since the Bowl was closed that night, ample off-street parking was available. I maneuvered into the lower parking lot and called a cab.
A few minutes later, our driver showed up, and we were on our way to a quick dinner followed by a short walk to the theater complex. The show was not all that was amazing. During dinner and en route to the show, Lady X constantly complained about my car. Not just to me but for the benefit of anyone nearby who was wearing ears.
A guy could get a complex. I was beginning to feel our date might not turn out as envisioned.
At least after the music ended, she stopped – or I couldn’t hear her. The loud music must have dulled her senses.
After the show we took a cab to the resting place of my car, and it started right up. Unfortunately, so did my date. I bid the cabbie farewell and was planning on breaking the local speed limits to get her home.
Within 10 minutes my car had had enough of my date. It died a second death, this time on the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Highland Avenue. Since I already had a date, and I do not use drugs, I was unsure what to do in that neighborhood at 12:45 a.m. I was able to call AAA and have them send a tow truck out to rescue us. I would have the car towed to the Lincoln dealership in Santa Monica, three blocks from my business. I would bundle Lady X into one of my work vans and drive her home.
Sadly, the night extended longer than planned – or feared.
(To be continued)
Mr. Corlin, a two-term, City Councilman and former mayor of Culver City, may be contacted at ad741@lafn.org
