CATEGORY: MRS. ANDERSON

Even though Condor Street was close to downtown Portland, it was isolated by the steepness, woodsyness and the narrow curves of the ravine .  Before we got our garage built, we parked our cars on the street.  From time to time things would get stolen: hub caps, windshield wipers and, if I remember correctly, one of my wheels.

One night, in the middle of the night, Bob heard something that awakened him.  He got up and swiftly got dressed, awakening me.  Out the window we saw a strange car parked at our curb with a man standing beside it.  Silently Bob opened the front door and stepped out on the porch.  I came right behind him, huddling by the door.

Then I heard a voice come from Bob that sounded like that of a total stranger; it sounded like Lee Marvin in one of his more sinister movie roles. It said, “What the hell, do you think you’re doing.”  Then there was an explosion of motion.  Bob could run like a cheetah.  He careened down the stairs and across the bridge.  A voice from out on the street yelled, “STOP.”  And then, “STOP OR I’LL SHOOT”!!!!!  Bob stopped.  A car door slammed.  A car roared off down the hill.  I heard Bob’s footsteps returning slowly.  I collected the small pieces of my breath that I hadn’t yet swallowed.  Bob said, “That guy had something in his hand.  I couldn’t tell if it really was a gun.”

After that I sometimes looked at Bob thoughtfully, wondering if Lee Marvin might be a long distance ventriloquist.