Finding Refuge: A Story of Friendship and Self-Discovery

A New Chapter Unfolds

As I approached my eleventh birthday, I realized it was time to bid farewell to my aunt and uncle’s basement in Needham. My younger cousin and I didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye, and I knew my presence made her uncomfortable. With no other place to call my own, I turned to my trusted friend Jay for help.

Seeking Refuge

Jay and I had formed a strong bond during our senior year in high school, particularly after the infamous “Kill Vinnie” incident made me question my friendships with my football teammates. Jay was home from college for the summer, working at UPS in Brockton, loading packages. We couldn’t have been more different – he was a soccer player, while I played football – but our differences only strengthened our friendship. We shared a love for smoking pot, music, partying down the Cape, and chasing girls.

A Bond Born from Peyote

One memorable experience that sealed our bond was when we did Peyote together. That unforgettable night created an unbreakable connection between us. During the winter of ’75, I transferred from Norwich University to Boston University, where Jay attended. While visiting him during breaks from Norwich, I always had a blast, surrounded by parties, girls, and great weed.

A Change of Scenery

However, once I started attending BU, I realized that Jay wasn’t the odd one out; it was me. His friends were similar to him, and I struggled to fit in. After two semesters, I left BU, but my friendship with Jay remained strong. When he heard about my housing dilemma, he quickly came up with a solution.

A New Roof Over My Head

Jay asked his parents if I could stay with them for a while, and to my surprise, they agreed. I was grateful for the chance to crash in their small ranch house with a two-car garage. In exchange, I traded my commercial air compressor for a ’63 Ford Falcon with high mileage. The car may not have been a beauty, but it got me around, and I made it my own by adding evergreen air fresheners.

Living the High Life

Jay and I would often hang out, burning a fatty and sipping coffee frappes from Bendinelli’s Variety. We were having the time of our lives with our new living arrangement. Jay’s father, Len, was a mailman with a big frame and a classic ’70s mustache. He had a temper, but I rarely saw it during my stay.

Disco Era Drama

One evening, while getting ready to go out, I used my blow dryer, which messed up the TV signal in the den where Len watched the Red Sox. Jay mentioned it to me, and I made sure to use the blow dryer before the game started to avoid disturbing Len. But little did I know, this was only the beginning of my interactions with Jay’s father.

A Night to Remember

Jay asked to borrow my Falcon to take his girlfriend out, but she refused to get in, calling it an ugly car. I joked about it with Jay, but later that week, Len let him use his Buick Century to take her out. However, their night took a turn when someone hit the passenger side door in the parking lot. Jay told me about it, and I suggested waiting till morning to break the news to Len.

The Morning After

When Jay told Len about the damage, he went off, yelling and pointing his finger in Jay’s face. I knew how to fix the dent from my experience at Muzi Motors, so I grabbed the family plunger and went to work. I slammed the plunger against the door panel, paused, and pulled hard, removing the dent. I looked up at Len, expecting gratitude, but instead, he looked even angrier.

Stealing the Thunder

It turned out I had stolen Len’s thunder and snuffed out his rage, which didn’t sit well with him. That wouldn’t be the last time I’d ruffle his feathers. As I looked back on that moment, I realized it wasn’t about the car; it was about the people and experiences that shaped my life.

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