"Jack's Car," A Hep C story

[Straight__Up]

                                      "Jack's Car"

I first met Jack down at a second hand junk store my neighbor Ed was running.  Ed would open the doors to various drunks and street people who had no place to go at night after hours; a kind of charity "Mission," except these guys would hang around and drink or smoke dope, play poker, get out of the cold.

 It was a gritty, smokey place with no pretense concerning the hardships of life on the street.  But, I saw love, caring, and compassion among these broken people, such as they were. On that level, the person next to you may be the one you depend on.  They were looking out for each other.

Jack was a Vietnam vet,  who was living  day to day. He had a metal plate in his head  and probably wasn't quite with things.  But he seemed to be a likable guy. He told me about how he used to work in a nuclear power plant as part of security, before he hit the skids.

Well, that store shut down, because Ed lost his lease. I never gave Jack a second thought.  Until  four months later, when he showed up at  Ed's house, bloated, yellow, and dying.  He had lost 95 percent of his liver function, his doctors said.

It turned out jack had HCV,  and didn't know it.  To combat the headaches and body aches, he had been eating a lot of Tylenol,  and so here he was, making trips to the hospital to get fluid drained every few weeks.  They gave him six months to live, if that. The Tylenol had done him in.   He was  doped up on morphine, but greeted me with a smile and a hello.  

I laid out a program of alternatives for him, (or tried to,)  but I could see in his eyes he wasn't interested;  he was ready to die, just waiting.  It was too late anyway.  He was at peace with his fate.  I watched him as he nodded off from time to time, drifting in and out of awareness.  I never saw him again, after that day.  

Jack went to Oklahoma, where some friends were going to put him up. He died a couple of days after he got there.  His SSI check arrived the day after he passed away.

Well, Ed was in the business of buying old cars and fixing them for sale, and one day he bought some old wrecks that had been sitting around in someone's yard.  Among them was a Toyota, which needed some work.  So it was fixed up, and I bought the car for 600 bucks.  

There were papers and registration in the car and lo and behold- this was Jacks old car; he had driven this car, co incidentally enough. Turned out he had worked for the guy who had possession of the car.  I was now the owner of Jack's old car.  Made me feel funny - maybe this was a bad omen.  I let the car sit for a number of months.

But, came the time when I needed a car, so I got the Toyota licensed and  drove the car for a couple of weeks, and was traveling down the highway  (  two lanes)  at a high rate of speed one day.  I pulled off on a side road  and was going about 20 mph, when the right front wheel collapsed  and folded up inside the wheel well.  A few minutes earlier, and I most likely would have rolled the car, at the very least, and maybe been killed, and caused a major accident.  

It turned out that when they were making  repairs,  the  lower ball joint didn't get put together right and a kotter pin was left out, so the undercarriage came apart when the nut worked itself loose and came off.  

I was extremely lucky.   But was it "luck?"   I like to think that Jack and God were looking out for me. Why had I suddenly decided to pull off on a side road, just on a whim?  Was that "my" decision?  Co-incidence?  Is there such a thing?  Makes a person wonder.  

Got the car fixed.   I named it "Jack." Had it checked out, drives fine.

[Dude]

Put that in your book, brother. Man, great stuff, Straight Up. There's stuff going on that happens in a dimension we can only imagine, unless we free the spirit inside.

Angels.

[willy]

Straight-up:  I loved the story. Thanks for taking the time to write it.  I hope that Jack is enjoying it too.  I never know what to think about such things.  Seems like a hell of a coincidence, actually several.  I heard Laz mention the Keys in another thread........  let me tell you about my jack.  I drove down to the Florida Keys in the early 70's to visit a friend who was pretty much slacking and taking it easy in Big Pine Key.  I drove my TR3 down there, drove about 1400 miles I suppose.  First thing I noticed was how strange it is to get on a bridge that never seems to end. It was like 5 in the morning and I'd been driving close to 21 hours.  I was on this bridge that just KEPT going and going.  Lol.  The more freaked I got the slower I drove.  I kept waiting to pass Rod Serling on the side of the road recapping my twilight zone drive.  Whew.  The darn thing finally ended (it was only 7 miles), I arrived in Big Pine and found my friend.  It was the next day when I was driving around I noticed that I had a flat tire and pulled off just in time.  I would have otherwise had a flat tire on the same bridge, which was being worked on during the day.  It was a two lane bridge and one lane was closed for construction.  I ran down the hill and borrowed a jack from somebody cause mine wasn't working.  After I repaired the tire and reinstalled the wheel and returned the jack, they said, "want a beer?".  After having a beer, I drove my car back down to the oceanside.  It was at that point they noticed my plates.  The person that loaned me the jack was from my hometown.  The beer was very good too.  

Willy
       

[little_juan]

Yes...

A well written and beautiful story, Straight_Up.

On Friday nights, Marina and I have a family movie night. It was an idea that she came up with right after her father moved out of the house.
A way, I suppose, for her to reestablish a sense of togetherness, in the midst of great change in our family structure.
Last Friday, we watched Harry Potter's The Chamber of Secrets, for what must have been at least the 100th time...
There is a scene in the movie, where the young wizard Harry sits down at a table and opens a book.
He was in search of answers, and instead found a book of empty pages.
Empty, so it appeared, until he  took the quill in his hand, dipped it in the ink, and introduced himself to the pages of the blank book...

I hope you have a blank book SU.

I don't believe in coincidence.

I do, however, believe in angels.

TT

[rose418]

Cool stories, Guys!

When I was small enough to still be in a crib in my mother's bedroom, she was dating an American soldier who drank heavily and beat her regularly.  I would lie in my crib listening to her cry.  my crib was pushed next to a wide window ledge.  One day, while my mother was crying, a small little man with a cane, funny shoes, a squarish hat and a wide belt was dancing on the sill.  I giggled.  After that, he visited me almost every day for a long time.  Then I never thought about him again until my mother married the American and we moved to America when I was five.  In kindergarden, I opened a fairie tale book and was amazed to see my long forgotten lilttle visitor!  I asked my teacher (she spoke German) who that was and she told me that he was a Leprecaun!  So--needless to say--I believe in Leprecauns!

--Rose

[phonenix]

That was a cool story. I believe that we are looked after. by loved ones, angels,  whatever you wish to call them. I've had many instances, the latest by my father - in law (passed on in Jan.) Coincidence, naw. Who are we to say? There is way to many things that happen over a life time of coincidences to think other wise. Phonenix

[Reb]

What a wonderful story.  I really needed to hear others tell of un-explained yet wonderful experiences.  I have been coming here for about two months now, just reading, trying to understand and learn.  You all are so soothing, comforting and informative.  I do not come here because I have HCV.  My brother has been batteling it since 1997.  In the past I read up on it and tried to keep informed.  I have a large family, an invalid mother in-law, stressfull job...just lost track of his journey.  Now, he is very ill.  Not just hcv, but much more.  Waiting on many test results today.  It doesn't look good at all.  My heart is breaking.  But this story reminded me of something that happened to my brother ten years ago.  Our mother had been trying to recover from a botched surgery.  For 45 days we waited and prayed.  It never got better.  She was our strength, our support, our rock.  When she died my brother was so lost.  So many times he had been down, so many times she encourged him and brought him back up. She always believed in him an his potential.  Her love kept him going.  During that 45 days, all of us kids had neglected our many regular duties.  My brother, like myself had a beautiful yard and flower garden.  The flowers had since died due to lack of attention.  Very soon after her death, he awoke to find his flower bed revived of several flowers that had died and were in need of pulling up.  But they were standing tall and in full bloom.  The big deal though were the Indian paintbrushes scattered all about his yard.  Indian Paintbrushes were our mothers favorite flower.  But they don't just pop up out of a manicured saint augustine lawn that was mowed the day before.  My comment to my brother when he called....Love Knows No Boundries!   He needs that love now.  And I still believe.  Thanks....I love this place!