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Savoring the Pits

Savoring the Pits



No one in the entire world was any happier than I was that afternoon.

There are few things that bring this car guy more joy than family and automobiles. My wife is going to read this so I have to list them in that order. The family segment consists of the world’s greatest wife (as I mentioned my wife is going to read this) and my wonderful daughter. The automobile, on this particular day, was a fully restored 1962 Corvair Monza convertible with a Porsche red exterior, black interior, dual carburetors and an exhaust system that sounded like a tuba being played by the devil. Yes, I know, Mr. Nader said that all Corvairs were dangerous and he was right about the 1960 & 1961 models, but once the suspension problems were fixed the Corvair became a true pleasure to drive, especially on a beautiful summer day.

We owned a 44 foot 1957 Spartan Royal Mansion trailer that was located in a wooded area about 50 miles N.E. of Seattle, just outside of the town of Goldbar, WA. Goldbar can best be described as a town that would be the destination for a motorcycle gang sponsored by the AARP. The trailer was gorgeous and looked like a diner from the 1950’s; all polished corrugated aluminum and Norman Rockwell charm. We often spent weekends and vacations there during our 10 years of ownership, and on this particular day I was going to arrive early and the family would join me later in the evening. While cruising in the convertible I realized that I had forgotten to bring the trailer key with me. The situation looked like this; it was a beautiful summer afternoon, the surrounding countryside was in full bloom, the red convertible was running perfectly and I had no key to get into the trailer. My usual remedy for any stressful situation, no matter how minor, is to eat. Years of stress relief, and my expanding waistline, indicate that this remedy has successfully been utilized often, and it was called upon to brighten up that sunny summer day.

I steered the Corvair towards the nearest source of sustenance, this being the nearby town of Index, and pushed down on the accelerator. There is a grocery store located in Index that looks like it belongs on the main street of Mayberry, USA. The interior of the store features worn out wooden floors, a limited amount of the barest necessities, and every gizmo ever invented for the fisherman. I don’t fish and the trailer was already fully equipped with the barest necessities. The store also had produce so I purchased some fresh picked Bing cherries. I left Mayberry, USA, with enough cherries to feed the entire Pacific Northwest and proceeded on down the road.

So I now find myself driving the much loved red rocket down breathtaking wooded country roads while the radio is playing top forties hits from my high school days, there is a bag of cherries next to me and I’m warmed by the thought that in a few hours I will be with the two most important people in the world. True bliss is the feeling experienced while rapidly turning into a banked forest lined curve and spitting cherry pits into the wind. To some readers this may not sound like the top of the pleasure meter but it was perfection to me. I don’t care if you are the richest person in the world doing whatever the richest people in the world like doing, you are no happier than I was that afternoon. The pits flew, the tuba blared, and I drove on for hours appreciating my good fortune.

The cherry stained grin on my face was nearly as wide as the Corvair.