Chapter 16: Severed Finger
After losing my job, I sold imported cars for a year. I would drink occasionally and started dabbling with opiates. One winter Saturday night, I was at a bar that sold a drink called Red Eye, a shot of grain alcohol and Tanqueray. They would only let you have three. I had three at the downstairs bar, went to the upstairs bar and downed three more. I took a Quaalude and drank a beer. I was in front of a live band and can't remember to this day what someone said to me, but it made me mad. I turned around, and punched down through a thick beer mug. A finger was severed on my right hand and was attached by skin only. Someone gave me a towel, and I walked out to find a hospital. The next memory is waking up in the E.R. I had passed out on my walk and someone had found me. They had to call in a specialist micro-surgeon, as I had severed nerves. I didn't bleed to death and still have a finger. A miracle.
I’m going to explain some of my “little adventures” in the 1970s. On a Saturday night, Joe and I were sitting in my apartment. After drinking a case of beer, we decided to go bar hopping. I brought a 6-pack, and we jumped in the car. The next thing I know, 4 lanes of traffic are coming at us. I’m going the wrong way on a thoroughfare. I remember sitting in the cruiser and asking the policeman to give me a break. He said, “Shut up, you're going to jail.” Here are my citations. Going up a one-way street going the wrong way and attempting to flee from a police officer. I had 30-day plates and a driver’s license that were expired. I had no insurance. Having a drunk minor with me and DUI. Back in 1978, that cost me $5000. Several years ago, I helped a judge with a phone issue at Verizon. I told her this story and her face got a little red. She said, “Do you know what would happen to you today? You’d go to jail for a year, permanently lose your license and spend $50,000.” Oh.
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Several months later, Joe and I were at the same bar where I had severed my finger. Zachariah's Red Eye Salon. Joe had a fake ID and did not look his age. Once again, we had 3 shots downstairs, 3 upstairs. After drinking a couple of pictures of beer, we left. When we’d come in, it had been snowing a little. Now it's a blizzard. We hit 100 mph on the interstate and Joe said, “Oh crap.” ‘What?” “We just passed a cop.” I saw the lights come on and thought, Oh no, I’m not getting arrested again! I turned off the exit and on the turn we hit so hard it cracked one of my alloy wheels. I took side streets to lose the cop. Joe said something to me and when I looked at him, I slammed into a parked car. Backed up and sideswiped the next car and knocked the mirror off a third. We arrived at the apartment and there was a friend's Corvette. He had been trying to seduce Joe's sister, Debbie, who I was deeply in love with. We had the same thought at the same time. I slammed into his Vette on purpose. Joe said, “Hit him again.” I popped the clutch and smashed the back, shattering the fiberglass. We got out, I broke his antennae, and fell into bed. The next morning, at 9 am, the phone rings. His name was Detective Hallsey, my nickname was Hallsey. He said, “Did you have a good time last night?” They had matched paint from the first three cars, he said I needed to come down to the police station. Thank God, all my ticket was for was failure to maintain control due to the blizzard. When I arrived back at the apartment, my friend was looking at his Corvette. The entire back end was cracked and shattered. “Look at what some idiot did to my car.” I felt bad, but he never found out it was me.
A year later, my mother passed from the cancer. I had moved back home to help dad, he was in his seventies and in poor health. I’d accepted a sales position with an appliance company, and after seven months was promoted to store manager. One evening we were doing inventory, so I didn't arrive home until 2:00 am. I looked in on dad, but he wasn't in bed, he’s in a fetal position on the floor after dying from a massive heart attack.
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