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| Randy Terry (R_terry)
Registered Member Username: R_terry Post Number: 1 Registered: 11-2006 Posted From: 207.230.140.240 Rating: |
For the past six years, I have owned the Salvage Yard on Wheels, the dutiful GM 4104 that constitutes my home. It might be said that the bus and I have certain similarities. We both have well over fifty years of "service" and suffer from some of the same ailments. I have issues with arthritis, and the bus no longer sits level, listing to the right. I get uglier with age (my perception) and, apparently, so does the bus (other people's perception). Frankly, the bus hasn't changed much on the outside since the first day of my ownership, other than some cosmetic detailing and loss of the awning. In the beginning, it was my intention to completely refurbish the bus inside and out, returning it externally to its original Greyhound colors and like-new appearance. But it soon became apparent that, realistically, it was too corroded, rusted out, and banged up all the way around to make it a sensible, worthwhile project. So I bought another bus, a GM 4905, upon which I tacked all of my future hopes and dreams. In the meantime, my entire life fell apart and I am still holed-up in the SYOW. But that perception of the bus getting uglier by the day finally landed in my lap. Lee, the RV park manager, decided my bus was too unsightly to be parked near the street (second space in) and gave me the option of moving to the back lot, accessible only from outside of the park on a different street, or find another place to live. Period. Apparently, my bus was not good for business and should not be seen by any potential customers, most of whom traveled around in luxury coaches worth more than the RV park itself. My options were so slim, they really weren't options. So I moved to hinterland. Surprisingly, the old 6-71, after two years of non-use, fired up after only four revolutions, purred like a kitten, and treated me to a splendid half-mile ride around the block. Driving the SYOW can be described in one word: Sweet! But I am not the only one who got the boot. Bob, my next door neighbor, the one who saw the microburst rip my awning off the bus and flick it over to the opposite side, has been giving Lee a compelling reason to transplant him to the back lot for a long time. His RV operation in the space closest to the street, really is an eyesore. (It probably added to the negative perception of my own coach.) For years, he had been routinely threatened with eviction if he continued violating park rules; such as, having excessive junk on the patio; fans hanging out the windows; bird cages attached to the side of the RV; rooftop A/Cs with missing covers; and oil leaking all over the driveway, to name just a few. So he was also given the final ultimatum: move to the back lot or get the hell out. He refused. Then he received a Registered, Certified Notice of Eviction, giving him two months to relocate to another park, or wherever. He refused that, too. Bob is a tough case. He's about sixty years old, unable to work, subsisting on a small VA disability benefit from a back injury. Additionally, he's been partially debilitated from several strokes, the last one leaving him with a noticeable speech impediment and difficulty forming his thoughts. He's had a heart attack and bypass surgery; operations on the veins in his legs to restore circulation and mobility; and complications from emphysema from a lifetime of heavy smoking. And he's an alcoholic, only recently going on the wagon since being unable to afford a bottle. Not surprisingly, Bob lacks the necessary well-being, physical strength, financial resources, and mental capability of undergoing and accomplishing an eviction-style change of life. Bob's attitude doesn't help. His extremely negative point of view has always been difficult to listen to. He rarely has anything to say that isn't all about Bob and the misery he suffers, most of it brought about, at least in his mind, by park manager Lee, the woman he considers his personal nemeses, if not the very Devil herself. As Bob's eviction deadline approached, I couldn't see any plausible resolution to his dilemma. His coach was inoperable; he was too frail and sickly; he had no money; and, he had no place to go, with little likelihood of being accepted in any other RV park. But Bob had a plan. He taped a suicide note to the outside of his coach naming Lee as the reason for his actions, wrote out a Last Will and Testament which he put on his dining table, and ingested all of the prescription meds for his high blood pressure and heart condition. He went to bed, and that was it. Except for one thing. The wind blew the suicide note off the coach and into the RV park where it was found by a guest and given to the park manager. Lee raced over to Bob's RV, barged in, discovered Bob unconscious, and called 911. He was rushed to the hospital, his stomach was pumped, and Bob, bless his heart, managed to survive the ordeal. He was released, in fair condition, three days later. It would seem the Devil is guilty of playing dual rolls. First, the Devil causes Bob to kill himself; then, the Devil saves his life. It's the ultimate irony. Merry Christmas, Bob. And, Happy Holidays to everyone on the BNO. R TERRY | ||
| David Evans (Dmd)
Registered Member Username: Dmd Post Number: 129 Registered: 10-2004 Posted From: 71.125.9.251 Rating: N/A |
Merry Christmas Randy, great story and we wish you and Bob well. And if you can, go for a ride every once in awhile. When i lived aboard full time every sunday morn i would clean and straighten up and put everything away and if there was time we went for a ride if only up and around town. Great for the soul of bus and operator. My thanks also to Ian and all the board members for my favorite site. |
