Chapter 16: Wholly Dedicated to You, Two

[We’re going skinny dipping]

The very worst cars to detail were the ones with rotten blood in them and/or rotten milk, soured. That could gag a maggot in the Hawaiian heat of the day. And for some reason it seemed like it was the two seater sports cars, the worst. We never got a Corvette on the lot or a Porsche or a Mercedes Sport model. We got Triumph T series, later models, not the big spoke wheels collectibles or the old roadsters. We got newer M.G.’s and we got some cheapie models like the Triumph Spitfire. Those were ones abused.

Convertibles had rotten rugs if not just rubber mats which were actually easier to clean. If the upholstery was cracked the water would soak in and take forever to dry. We did not have any heated environment to work with other than the great ambient outdoors and very limited under roof parking...

[My rusty metal work shop]

... like for one car. I was always amazed at how some of those less expensive racing genre mystique vehicles drove so poorly.

It must be remembered that Pepo was just happenstance, seemed more a place to get laid than to sell cars.

I pretty much hated those sport cars. But, they sold. The beach bum crowd would buy them for a quick fix and a possible babe magnet. That whole mentality of I am what I drive never impressed me and I sound exactly like a snob.

My horny bosses never used any particular car as a babe magnet though. They just drove to their favorite bars and talked a good line. When they found an “easy” lady they liked they would bring her back to the lot and introduce her to the other partner after trying her out in a rented room they kept in the back streets of Waikiki.

Sometimes I would hear them talking about the current girl in terms of a “quality fuck”. It was a contest to see which partner talked the best line and got the best looking prostitute for the best price. There was a favorite bull shit story about her not being a hooker but rather a nice girl new in town. Yes, I was interested in eves dropping in on their latest “kill” but the concept otherwise made me sad and there I go again sounding like a snob. But the parochial religious leverage d’morale was always working its magic with it’s trained brain washing and the bosses thought my overt shyness was always hilarious when “There’s simply pussy to be had for the asking just down the street in Waikiki”.

Like I said, it made me sad.

Once there was a very nice looking Asian woman who Wally brought back to the office for Dave. When they spoke of her it was like she was supernatural. “There’s not a wrinkle on her.” “My GAWD she gives incredible head.” “She’s like doing it for free!” I would have liked to talk to her not because of what they said but because I wanted to know why she did it. Was she desperate? I felt sorry for her. Those guys were such insensitive slugs and yet she kept coming back to the car lot for more fulfillment for like weeks.

Regardless of my youth and brain washing I understood by nature the women were both on the receiving end of the horny lust and also the losing end.

Then when Dave and I went down to Repo a car in the back street depths of Waikiki I was hooking up the jumper battery cables as he took the pile of parking tickets out from under the windshield wiper to toss them into the air like he always did, “Whee!” Two ladies exited a nearby condo building giving him the eye. “Hi ladies!,” he tattled. They gave him dirty looks as they walked away. “The living dead!” he growled letting me know he knew them. “First fuck them and then hate them” I thought to myself.

The car started and I drove it back hoping for no bugs in the stinky vehicle. These were the grody beach bum favorites with who knows what under the seats.

So went their battle selling and re selling junky Pepo cars plus getting not just laid but rather enough, sufficient, and at a par satisfactory all well before the Aids pandemic. And when they reached another pinnacle of assumed best-fuck-yet-shared-vagina they really didn’t reminisce in their past glories but sought younger and more pristine crotches to venture.

That is, when they weren’t sharing a woman they would be sharing tips, bragging points with the guys next door at Maxwell Motors, the used car lot competition just a bit closer down the street toward Waikiki.

I have to admit Wally and Dave were a lot better looking than the guys at that other lot. Those guy were in fact downright ugly but when it comes to paying for sex it didn’t really matter. It was the money talking and that’s not news.

I could imagine women professionals didn’t really look at the guys, the johns, at all. If you were going to be a hooker working tricks in the islands it had to be much more pleasant than during the freezing winters on the mainland. But the entire subject was beyond me probably because I was a virgin with a recent private school education where they taught us we were the chosen ones as long as we didn’t do anything naughty, tagged with a sin our souls.

I was feeling so worldly just hanging around those guys and seeing things that weren’t even spoken of in hush tones in parochial school. I was revisiting gun shot wound blood in vehicles and used condoms under seats. I didn’t think much about friends back in high school. Nobody in school had much of any idea about the world beyond. But what I did think about was the fact some of them went to Vietnam, quite another thing, present times, a weight on every young guys shoulders.

I always believed I would be exempt for one of two reasons, college and/or my 1Y classification because of my extensive hip and leg injuries in that motorcycle accident back on the mainland.

I would get a notice from the Selective Service requiring me to attend a physical at Fort DeRussy in Waikiki. This was a tiny little post, a building on prime property right behind the Royal Hawaiian hotel. I would show up and park, parking always available back then, and go check in. I would be there with the likes of some surfers, big muscle guys with knots on their knees from riding their boards so much while living the legend of the better waves to come. They would get classified 4F after we all peed on a stick to see if we were diabetic.

I never understood why the surfers who were totally healthy were made exempt forever. But as it turns out darned lucky for them. The staff would try to rotate my hip which was impaired like 50% and then they would send me away exemption unchanged. It was a pain in the ass but at least I wasn’t Vietnam bound.

Mid afternoon Siza would come over and sit on a fender to talk as I detailed a car. I really appreciated that, someone to share my thoughts with while I worked buffing which required little thought.

I felt so much closer to her perhaps because of what she had taught me for one thing. She was the girl who had first touched me like no other before in my life and now we were lovers of the real kind.

Linda came back to be with me after classes and we three would talk about anything, everything, the new market under construction. I listened intently to them telling me their most personal things and I did the same. We discussed all the things I spoke of above and more as I showed them tricks to make old junky cars look great.

Siza wanted to know about my childhood because I’d told her my mother was abusive when I was very small. Somehow she was interested particularly in that and in time I felt compelled to ask her if she’d been abused. “Oh, never by my family,” she said more than once. Then finally one day, maybe because we had been drinking each a couple of her beers we got into a conversation on the subject as I was telling her about how my middle sister and I confronted my mother as she was absolutely terrorizing my oldest sister.

“She didn’t like my oldest sister in a very weird way. It was like her first child made her jealous. We told her what she was doing wasn’t right and she stopped, seemed shocked by our rationale and it seemed to reduce her to our level or perhaps was quite belittling to hear that from her own teenage kids.”

That somehow seemed to rally more interest in Siza but I let it go. I didn’t want to press her. She was complicated for sure and I would never violate our confidence in one another to push her too far for more information. I just enjoyed her female allure as she sat and filled Linda and I with friendship.

“You guys and I should go out together and have some fun. We all need that pretty badly. There’s lots to talk about. Think about it and if you ever need me please just call and I’ll be there right away to hug you, two of my best friends in the whole world.” “I really love you,” Siza said. “I really love you too.” “Let’s go out to the north shore soon. I’ll show you guys some cool stuff and we can use the cabana.” “Nice, yes!”

At school I ask Linda about Siza’s idea, how she felt and she seemed really excited. We were set for the following weekend.