our savings into a new home. The sum of our savings was one thousand dollars. We hated the idea of paying rent when we could put the money into a house. Our real estate agent told us the most house this money could buy was one that had just been built on the outskirts of Schenectady, New York. This was all right with us and we went to see.
It was a small Cape Cod, with four rooms, basement, and expandable attic, but no dining room, no fireplace, and no garage. The price was $9,500. The monthly payments each month were to be $54.00 for twenty-five years. Both Sally and I had jobs and we thought we could afford this. We signed the necessary papers and decided to move in on October 8, the evening of our wedding.
I have warm feelings about that home. The first evening Sally and I spent there was memorable but the next morning brought its own memory. Sally's father appeared unannounced barely after the sun had risen. He said the reason was that he simply wanted to see if everything was OK. We assured him it was and he drove away in his Packard. I stood at the front door for several minutes with the door open. "What are you doing, Hon," Sally's voice came from the kitchen. "Not much, dear," I replied. "I'm just looking up and down the street to see whether my father is also coming to find out how we're doing."
We didn't know it at the time but this purchase represented the investment that made it possible for us to purchase three additional homes in the future. We moved to more expensive homes as one climbs a ladder to reach new heights. In 1960, we had a new home built in Apalachin, New York, for $17,000. Four years later, back in Schenectady, a new home built for $20,000, and still later, in Clifton Park, a new home for $25,000. The time span from the first home to the fourth had been twenty-seven years. There had never been a problem with making the down payments. The gain in value of the first and subsequent homes had made it possible for us to make purchases as they were needed.
Sadly, Sally died in 1987. We had brought up four lovely girls. I'm a great grandfather several times over. Memories of how the seats were will never leave me.
A First Date
On A Windy Day
Matthew Grimms studied his image in the mirror as he adjusted his hairpiece. He was only thirty-eight but had begun losing his hair fifteen years earlier. There was plenty of hair along the sides and back but very little on top. The piece had restored light brown hair to his head and ten years of youth to his appearance.
And now, he was in love. He had met Glenda Robinson at Ridgewood College and had been smitten as never before. She was the new secretary in the Humanities Department.
As Assistant Professor of English, Matthew had occasions to see and speak to Glenda several times during the week.
"Ms. Robinson, I need this outline typed before the staff meeting this afternoon. Would you see if you can fit it into your busy schedule?"
She turned her blue eyes toward him in a way that he found most disconcerting. "I'll try, Professor Grimms. Isn't this the same outline that you gave me yesterday – and the day before?"
"Well, as a matter of fact, it is, but you'll note that I've made some changes. I know it's an imposition, but would you mind…?"
"No problem at all, Professor. I'm sure I can get it done."
Matthew walked back to his office. He wasn't making much progress in getting to know Glenda better. A more direct approach was needed.
He knew where Glenda went for lunch. He thought that an accidental meeting at the Busy Bee Cafeteria would help break the ice. At lunchtime the following day, Matthew caught a glimpse of Glenda's trim figure as she put the cover on her typewriter and strode out the door. It was a beautiful sunny day in early September. Matthew decided that lunch at the Busy Bee today would be a good idea.
"Oh, hello Glenda," Matthew ventured, as he carried his tray to the table where she was sitting. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"
"Oh, no, Professor. I'd be glad to have company."
Matthew gazed at Glenda's attractive face and his stomach began tumbling like a clothes dryer. He hoped that his emotions wouldn't betray him. People had frequently told him that he wore his heart on his sleeve – whatever that meant.
They chatted as they dined. During the conversation, Matthew discovered that Glenda was thirty-one and a recent graduate of Smith Business College. She was trained in secretarial work, but hoped that some day she might go back to school to become a physical therapist. He also discovered two facts that were of great interest to him. Brenda was not married and had no boyfriend. Also exciting was the fact that she was interested in sports cars.
"What a coincidence," exclaimed Matthew. "I've been a sports car fan since I was a kid. As a matter of fact, I was planning on picking one up this weekend. Maybe you'd like to take a ride with me after I do this."
The truth wasn't quite that. Matthew was a sports car fan, true, and had been for many years, but he had trouble fitting his tall, lanky frame into one. Though he had admired them from afar, he had never actually yearned to own one. Living in an apartment very close to the college, he didn't feel the need for a car. But, here was his chance to form a closer relationship with the girl of his dreams. He needed to own a sports car now.
Matthew couldn't afford a new car, so he decided to visit Mark's Used Cars on Saturday. There, he spotted a vintage Ford convertible that glistened in black. He walked closer to get a good look. Mark Baldwin, a heavy-set, middle-aged man with dark hair and mustache to match, exited from the sales office on the lot and approached the young man. "I see you're looking at this beautiful roadster," he declared.
Matthew felt that this was the car for him, but he wasn't going to make it easy for the salesman. "Oh, I don't know," he muttered. "Looks a little dated to me, real old. What are you askin'?"
"Twelve hundred," Mark responded. "Maybe it's a little much for an old car but people have begun noticing cars like this. This car may be worth something in a few years. But if you're serious, you can probably buy the car for less! I gotta make a sale today or fall behind for the month. I can knock off two hundred but that's only for today!"
"How does she run?"
"Like a charm! Here, take the keys. Take a spin around the block. See if you can keep the girls away!"
Matthew accepted the offer and struggled to get into the car. It was a tight squeeze. He started the engine, but didn't bother with a test ride. "What are your finance terms, and how soon can I take possession?" he asked.
"If you check out you can pick 'er up this afternoon. I'll finance the car for you personally. You'll have to rest of the year to pay."
"Done!" For the first time in his life, Matthew was on the way to becoming the owner of a sports car. Well, it wasn't a Jaguar or an Austin Healey, but it was a convertible, and that qualified as being a sports car, he reasoned.
The afternoon was sunny and warm, but a little windy. Matthew walked to Mark's lot from his apartment and rushed through the mandatory paper-signing formalities. The top was still down. He opened the door and, somehow, squeezed himself into the driver seat. There was barely adequate leg room inside. The trick was getting in!
Matthew put the car into first gear and drove off the lot. Shifting into second and third, he turned down right on to Washington Boulevard. He planned on revving up the Ford to see how it accelerated. He mashed down on the foot pedal and the car leapt forward. Exhilarated, he watched as the speedometer hit twenty, then thirty miles per hour. Everything was going fine so far.
Suddenly, Matthew's hairpiece gave an early warning that it was about to become dislodged. Frantically grasping at it, Matthew caught the hank of hair just as it was about to sail from his head. He kept his hand on it while he made a hasty stop at the side of the road. Then he spent several minutes evaluating the situation.
Matthew had purchased his first hairpiece a long time ago. Over the years he had replaced them as they wore out or became outmoded. No one guessed that he wore artificial hair. The store-bought product had never given him a problem, that is, until today.
"Maybe more tape is what I need," Matthe
w thought. The tape he used came in strips that were sticky on both sides. Several strips on the inside surface of the hairpiece allowed the hair to stick securely to his head. His hairpieces had never restricted him in anything he wanted to do. He had even swum with them. Today, the turbulence of the air surging through the car was more than the tapes could handle.
Matthew drove home slowly and went into the bathroom. He removed his hairpiece and examined its inner surface. There simply wasn't room for more tape. Matthew had to find another way to keep his hair on. It simply wouldn't do to have the hairpiece fly off his head on his first date with Glenda.
Piloting the sports car to the nearby Grebbs Department Store, Matthew purchased a black-and-red plaid sports cap. He placed it on his head over the hairpiece and turned his vehicle onto the nearest wide street. At twenty, then thirty miles per hour, there's was no difficulty, but when the car hit thirty-five, his cap flew off and the hairpiece kept it company. This time, there had been no warning.
Screeching to a halt, Matthew exited from the car, and walked to where the two items were lying side-by-side not more than a few feet apart. Several children, who had been playing nearby, stared at him with a mixture of amazement and amusement. Matthew ignored them as he picked up both items and walked back to his car. Folding himself into the