-
Britt Lind
a book bubble about
Learning How to Fly
Biographies & Memoirs
Author Insight
Why Do I Love My Old Car?
Last week the engine light on my 2004 Saturn went on. I love my mechanics. They are honest and have kept my car going for all these years. They, like thousands of other people I found on the internet whose engine lights have gone on and won’t go off, are mystified. Next week my mechanics will try again, no charge, to find out what’s wrong. If they can’t, it won’t pass the smog test and I’ll have to hand my Saturn over to the State of California for a reward of one thousand dollars. For some inexplicable reason, the thought of giving my car to the state to be torn to pieces for parts horrifies me. It runs perfectly and has taken me up to Seattle and back many times. It has never failed me. I have become attached to my Satty as if it were a beloved pet. Yes, it does sound strange but it’s true. I’d rather keep my Satty until he falls apart and is on his deathbed. Then I won’t feel so terrible when I take him to the junk yard where he will donate his organs to other deserving cars. But not yet. Just because you’re old doesn’t mean you’re ready for the scrap heap. And that goes for every one of us.
Book Excerpt
Learning How to Fly
Winning the West with Bruce Boxleitner
Alena and I settled comfortably into the new home Rosemaria had found for her in the Valley and I waited for the acting jobs to come rolling in. They didn’t. So like all young girls, I focused on dating the various guys who came my way. One of them was Jesse Vint, who had starred in Max Baer’s movie Mason County Line with his brother Alan. One night, Alena and I and some others were swimming in Jesse’s pool and it became obvious that Alena and Jesse hit it off. That was fine with me. I had already met someone who interested me more.
When Max’s movie, The McCullochs, was about to go into production, I worked in his office, mostly retyping the same script. One day Max’s new production manager, Alan Godfrey, walked through the door. He was several years older than me, had salt-and-pepper hair and a congenial, outgoing personality and we hit it off right away.
Everybody on the production staff started hanging out after work and in no time at all, Alan and I became good friends and I eventually found out about our near-misses on The Strawberry Statement and Then Came Bronson. My green MG had broken down in just about every intersection in L.A. It was hard to find a street where I hadn’t been stranded because of that poor old car. Every time I called Alan, he would come rescue me, help me get the car towed and drive me to where I needed to go.
By this time, John Lombardo had cast me in another play so I was coming home late at night. One night, I arrived home to an empty house and went straight to bed. I had been asleep for a few minutes when Alan, Alena and some other people came tromping into the house and woke me up.
“Why didn’t you join us?” Alan asked. I responded, barely awake,” I didn’t know you were all out together. Why didn’t you call?” Alan seemed confused. “I was going to leave a note for you but Alena said she would.” Alena seemed nonplussed as she said, “Oh sorry, I forgot.” No, she didn’t. She wanted to have my friends for herself. But I didn’t know that then.
Amazon
Barnes&Noble
GooglePlay
Apple Books
IndieBound
Kobo
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish
Comment on this Bubble
Your comment and a link to this bubble will also appear in your Facebook feed.