Thursday, November 3, 2011

The Honda Chronicles 3

Double Bogey here. Toussaint was thinkin’ to take this next chapter up, but t’hell with it. Might as well leave it to the professionals. I was the bus that saw it all. Ahem- where was I…

Jan. 18, 2010
The ground swirled beneath me. I’d never driven this fast in my life- this heavy. I’d trafficked hundreds of pounds of music equipment, a trailer on its last leg, and a drunk’n disorderly band before, but the weight of this was the most of all. It’d been a 2 weeks or so since Dana’s father had emailed Toussaint the options on Honda: either pay’em 2200 dollars and Toussaint keeps the Honda, or 1900 and the Honda gets trashed. Honest to God, sounded like a lose-lose to me. What fucker tells you to pay’em 1900 for a car that was already on its last leg? The Honda incurred damage in Toussaint’s care, but it wudn’t nothin’ but cosmetics. Hell, I could dress up a turd in a tutu, but that don’t make it any more than a turd- na’what’umsayin? Course ya do. Either way, we’re talkin’ two weeks later after the option had been laid out to ol’ Mr. Morrison.

You’ll have to forgive me for the fast forwardness, but I like to get to the meat of a story. As a wise man (Arthur Plumby) once said, “let’s cut the veggies and mash, I wanna get to the pork of it”. That line was taken from one of Toussaint’s old swim coaches back on the Richfield Swim Team, Mr. Hamren. Don’t ask me how I know all that. Again, I’ve heard it all, and seen mostly some of it.

Back to the deal, Toussaint had no intentions of “losing” this one. The kid was in the literal sense, down and out. Broke, nothin’ but a restaurant job he worked one day a week, and not a damn means but me (a short bus used for band touring) to get around the sub-zero winter of a city. We parked. Toussaint jumped out and walked towards Dana’s house. The strut of a man with layers of faked confidence. This was the break-up, the nail in the coffin. When a man approaches the end, even if he fears it, he’s gotta find a way to retain dignity, pride, or some kind of face in the eye of it all. Men’ve spent an eternity practicing not giving the power to women. Toussaint was about to engage in it. Although, what he wasn’t ready for was... the other side of Dana. A woman well practiced, herself, in the art of not-giving-a-fuck. It’s sad, these humans. Th’way they play this point-of-least-interest bullshit. Personally, as a vehicle, our lives are short. Gotta cherish every spark, every foot, every inch, every sunset you get- and her Toussaint is like a jackass, tryn’ta walk into a situation we all damn well know he cares the world for but’d rather put a game face on to retain that ol’ pride and shit. Malarkey, if you ask me.

On a sidenote, you should know Toussaint and I made a stop to Dana’s two days before this venture. He’d taken all’a his stuff outta her apartment and packed it up. S’pose the guy wanted to strike first- maybe he saw it comin’. You tell me what kinda girlfriend sticks with ya after she lets you borrow her car and it gets busted up on your watch? Potentially not your fault, perhaps some jackass backed into ya while you were parked! But still, what kinda woman breaks up with ya over that?... the one ya don’t marry! Ha-ha! It is the truth! Seen’a lotta couples, fightin’, fuckin’, fightin’ again. Don’t matter what the situation is- long as there’s a common understanding that when the goin’ gets tough, the relationship get goin’ as a team. Like a unit, if I may. Dana and Toussaint were beyond that. They were in the midst of quite the opposite of a unit and/or team. They were borderline rivals, oppositions, different pagers if I may. Either way, Toussaint’d  already picked up his shit from her apartment two days ago, and now he was walkin’ into crash land that son’bitch into the ground.

I wanna take a moment to the side and say that it’s never a good idea to crash land a relationship when you know its ending. Have some diligence y’all. Give her farewell, accept the end and take it like a champion. For more information on the whereabouts and moral costs of crash landing a relationship with another human being, consult Shane Hawley;) That son’bitch right there’ll tell ya alllllll about it!

Wudn’t more than an hour, Toussaint returned to me. Started the engine, hit Blaisdell Ave, and made a straight shot for home. First thing he did was punch the steering wheel and curse the air. That conversation with Dana couldn’t’ve gone well. See like’a told ya! Can’t go into these things actin’ like you’re made of titanium. He called a few people, no one picked up. All’a sudden good friend by the name’a Fatima answered back. Toussaint asked her a few points of advice, hopin’ she’d appease him by telling’em he made the right move, that it’d all work out in the end. By the reaction from Toussaint laying his head on the steering wheel, while the vehicle’s in motion, and hanging up the phone- it could be assumed she didn’t tell him what he wanted to hear.

And there, it was done.  Now, I understand discussing all this mumbojumbo emotional shit may deter away from the entire point and/or story we’re here to tell about Honda- but I feel this is an important part of the story to include. It gives validity and some kind of history to the life of Honda and how the relationship between Toussaint and itself grew from improbable circumstances.  The idiot that half broke his own heart lay in a driver’s seat of bad luck and uncertain opportunity. Dana and Toussaint had known each other for over 3 years, come be together for a little less than 2, and were done swift as a flat tire. Now, outside of “committed” and “official” their relationship had began long before that, but at this point… it was done. No more, no nothin’- done.

One thing that’d transpired from the break-up discussion was the realization of Honda’s price. Apparently Toussaint had been under the assumption that Dana’s dad would be charging him 2200 to fix the car and Dana’s family would keep it- which was not the case. Dana’s dad had made a list of what was to be fixed and how much fixing all of that would cost for the car. Again, Dana’s dad is a business man and you can’t blame him for trying to make a buck off of the Honda, BUT the question to be asked is: who was/is responsible for Honda’s condition and where the f*ck in Jesus H Christ do you get priced that much for a hood, alternator, and front bumper? I mean- these people must’ve been shoppin’ straight from a Cleveland drug dealer.

Lastly, to make sure he wasn’t crazy, Toussaint polled several women around the city ‘bout it. Heard’em on the phone, “If your boyfriend borrowed your car, and it got damaged while parked, and the damage was only cosmetic, would your father make him pay for it?” The resounding, overwhelming response was “no”, but then again what Toussaint failed to leave out was the relationship between himself and Dana’s parents. Lots’a women responded “Hell, my father would tell’em to grab a wrench, let’s fix this son’bitch, mow my lawn, do a few chores, and we’ll call it even!” No matter what the answer was, it didn’t change the reality of the situation.

Eyeing up The Blend’s schedule, and a list of parts for the car…. Toussaint made a move. First thing was first, he emailed Dana’s father and told him he could get the car fixed for 1100. Dad agreed, told’em it’d be 1100 for the damage and 300 or so for the title. All in all, it turned out to be 1500. Next, Toussaint arranged for an all-star repair crew. The folks at 4-star Auto Repair off’a University Ave. were the only saviors for Honda in the city. In the arms of the skagbaron auto shop in St. Paul Dana's parents had shipped it to, Honda didn’t stand a civil chance in makin’ it to Minneapolis outside of a junkyard. Mr. Morrison forked over the 70 bucks to have the car towed to 4-star, and had’em repair the alternator for a whopping… 300 dollars. Lastly, was the tour schedule. Somehow, The Blend was lined up for several weekends out of town that paid not-so lucrative, but the combination of it all and the restaurant job would pay Dana's dad the 1500 in a matter of two weeks.

And for the final move, the car had to be paid for sooner than later. The quicker this car got outta Dana's dads hands, the quicker he could start driving into the sunset... or the next deathtrap. Toussaint called his best friend in the whole wide world. He’d never borrowed money before, just time. The phone picked up, “Hey Liam- Yeah, hey this is Toussaint. I’m going to ask you a question, and it’s the first time I’ve ever asked this ever of anyone, but I need to borrow 1500 bucks.”

To be continued…

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