Excerpt
There was one more obstacle to overcome: O’Donnell couldn’t
drive. Rule #5 stated membership would not be considered unless
the applicant possessed a legal driving certificate. He took advantage
of Dodge down time to familiarize himself with the machine.
Whenever the car slumbered he sat behind its wheel practising the
smooth shifting of gears, learner’s manual resting in his lap, the
glossy, air-brushed wantonness of Ed Levine’s calendar girls an
encouraging audience to his lofty aspirations.
He approached Pete Dombrowski about his chances. The longtime
club member had dropped by Ed’s garage to replace a gasket.
O’Donnell held a light.
– How long before I’m in?
– Depends, kid, Dombrowski said. Maybe never.
– What’s your guess? Gimmee a ballpark.
Dombrowski slammed the hood and wiped his hands.
– Members decide by secret ballot. That waiting list? It don’t
mean nothin’.
– I’m getting my licence soon, O’Donnell reminded him.
Dombrowski slid in behind the wheel and fired up the car. The
engine roared to life.
– Don’t go celebratin’ yet, squirt.
Soon O’Donnell had mastered the clutch. At every opportunity
he stole runs around the block. After only a few weeks he was
driving as far as the municipal line. Mr. Levine was frequently
waiting for him when he returned to the garage. The two had an
unspoken agreement. The senior Levine wouldn’t inform the
membership of my friend’s unauthorized excursions if O’Donnell
remained silent about Mr. Levine’s afternoon liaisons with a certain
housewife.
O’Donnell says that pressure to influence the outcome of the draw
was especially vigorous the first Sunday in May, as Car and Driver
magazine invited all interested associations to enter a vehicle in the
Spring Festival gala. The winner that particular Sunday had the privilege
of powering the Dodge along the flower and bunting-bedecked…
