CATEGORY: MRS. ANDERSON

Gene Biggs was an artist who shared office space with Bob in downtown Portland.  During my years living near Tumalo and at the University, ending in 1969, I had a 1953 Chevrolet station wagon.  After I got out of school, married Bob and moved to Portland, I sold that car to Gene Biggs’ son for $1.00.  With that money, plus a little extra (four digets extra), I got an almost new Volkswagen.

I cannot remember Gene’s son’s name, but he was ecstatically delighted with my old car.  He painted it.  He put in a new motor.  He installed bucket seats.  It looked like it had just come off the show room floor.

Shortly after finishing this magical makeover, its new owner happened to be driving it along Northwest Cornell Road in Portland.  This was a rather narrow, winding north/south street that dented the side of a steep hill on the west side of the Willamette Valley above the city.  He was the forth in a line of five  cars all going north.  The owner of the first car, which we will call Car #1, lived on Cornell Road on the up-hill (left) side of the street.  Car #2 was a brand new sports car of some excessively expensive make.  It was not being driven by its owner, but by the teen aged boy friend of the daughter of its owner, who was being allowed to take it out for a spin, ALL BY HIMSELF!  Car #3 was God-knows what kind of car, with God knows who for a driver, as was Car #5. Gene Biggs’ son, as afore stated, was driving Car #4.

Here is what happened:  Car #1 stopped to make a left hand turn into his own driveway.  The not-yet-formed driver of Car #2, who’s head (due to his newly acquired sports car mentality) had swelled to thrice its normal size (thereby short circuiting the electric current to his brain) rev-v-ved up his two thousand horse power engine and stepped on the gas in order to make a grand stand stop behind the car that dared to stop in front of him.  He then slammed on the brake of said sports car and opened its door to get out and give the driver of Car #1 a piece of his not-yet-formed mind.  Car #3, in order to keep from hitting Car #2 in the rear, swerved around Car #2, and in so doing, hit the open door of Car #2, placing it precisely inside that car’s front fender.  Gene Biggs’ son then crashed into the back of Car #2, totaling his beautifully restored eighteen year old car, and pushing Car #2 into the back of Car #1.  Car # 5 then crashed into the back of Gene Bigg’s son’s car driving it even further into the back of Car# 2.  In less time than it takes to deflate a thrice-sized head, Car #2 had been accosted on three sides, like the closing of an accordion that had also been hit in the keyboard.  Have you ever heard that term, “Poetic  Justice”?  And how much longer do you think the driver of Car #2 was the boyfriend of the daughter of the owner of Car #2?  We never found out, but we had our suspicions.

Do you feel like you have just watched Abbot and Costello in “Who’s on First” ?