The City Of What??? (AKA-Old Jacks and getting Jacked up)

Here’s another throwback Kevin story:

Kevin was 17 years old and he had an okay life. He worked, and he went to school, he handled his responsibilities. He had a mobile home where he paid bills, and this beautiful 1977 Buick Limited. His father had offered him a choice of the 1977 Buick or one that was ten years newer.

 The difference was that Kevin would have to pay his Father and namesake for the two-year-old vehicle and while the 1987 had a certain style and Kevin liked the suicide hood, the darker blue and the modern amenities, the Limited was gangster. 

 It was that soft GM blue with plush interior.

Kevin cherished the beautiful car and its outdated luxury that translated into a nice ride 10 years later. There was only one problem. The long vehicle had developed a problem with the transmission.

Kevin told his mechanic, (his dad) through his secretary, (his mom) that he needed his assistance to get the beautiful boat back on the road.  

Kevin, Jr.  was in no hurry to get to the vehicle. He informed his son, via his wife and secretary that he would get to it as soon as possible. However, fixing the car that he had dissuaded his son from taking wasn’t high on the older Kevin’s list of priorities.

The younger Kevin attempted to wait. Patience wasn't one of his strongest virtues. Kevin III tried to wait, he really tried. A couple of days passed, and he wanted to put her on the road immediately!

Soon Kevin could wait no longer. He had seen his father working on multiple vehicles and was confident that he was familiar enough with the working parts of his own car to do the repair.

The Sun was blazing by 8 a.m. and Kevin could sleep no more. He wouldn’t normally be up that early on a Sunday morning, but he was going to fix the Buick.  Kevin pulled the old school Jack out of the trunk and he lifted all four corners of the car.  As he cranked the tire tool and jacked up the soft blue beast, Kevin placed twelve-inch masonry blocks beneath the car’s underbelly.

Once the 3800 lbs. were lifted off the ground Kevin began disconnecting the transmission.  He had read the Chilton guide and felt as if he could do the repair seamlessly.  Kevin slid beneath the car with his tools in hand.

The sun had heated the metal of his car and it was a relief to be in the shade provided by the raised American classic. The work was going along well until Kevin disconnected the transmission.

Once the mechanism that held the car in its inert position was no longer operational the nearly two tons of steel began to move, and the masons blocks under it were no match for that kind of weight. Kevin heard the first block break and the tremendous tonnage, begin to yield to the will of gravity.

He moved as quickly as his teen instincts permitted and had almost cleared the frame of the vehicle when it slammed down onto his chest.  Kevin’s chest was extremely thick and corded with muscle earned by countless hours spent tossing 6-8-foot-long pine logs onto a truck. His sheer size, strength and youth combined forces to keep him breathing as the two tons settled into the Alabama red clay and his body of the same color.  

A notorious pragmatist, Kevin looked around for the means to help himself. He knew that he was at least a mile and a half from anyone who could help him. Yelling and screaming for help would simply expend energy that might be put to better use.

 Kevin could just barely turn his head, now that the Limited had settled into the ground. He used one size 14 Reebok to pull the long metal tube with grooves notched into it closer to him. Once the device was close enough the young man wheezed as he ratcheted the jack down to a height that would extricate him from the vehicle’s embrace.

The tube began to bend and buckle with every crank of the handle that raised the leverage mechanism, the strain was audible, and Kevin knew that once he had given himself enough lift to slide from below the decade old steel he had better haul ass. Once he had made good his escape Kevin lay in full view of the wicked Alabama Sun. His chest hurt like hell, each breath was a chore. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, finally Kevin struggled to his feet and his legs threatened to buckle beneath him,  he leaned against his car for support.

“One foot in front of the other, one foot in front…” Kevin chanted inside his head. He was walking to the house closest to him. Kevin needed a doctor, and he needed a ride to the doctor.

The ride into Meridian might have been difficult but Kevin had no clue. He had passed out as soon as he fell/lay down in the bed of his neighbor’s pick-up truck. The emergency room at Matty Hersey hospital treated Kevin’s broken ribs and re-inflated his left lung. He would survive to get that Buick fixed.

Two weeks later, Kevin was experiencing severe cabin fever. His father had put a rush on repairing the Buick now that it had almost killed him. In record time Kevin III was tooling around in the huge Buick.

Despite the pain medication and muscle relaxers coursing through his veins, Kevin decided to go visit one of the candy stripers that he had met during his hospital stay. She was from Philadelphia; Mississippi and she had promised to make him a meal if he came to see her.

As soon as he pulled up to Tina’s apartments Kevin felt that he had made a big mistake.  No matter how cute and fine Tina was Kevin knew that her project was a death trap. Once again Kevin was forced to decide, and his libido influenced his choice.

True to her word Tina made Kevin a classic Mississippi Soul food meal. She plied the young man with liquor which didn’t mix well with the narcotic pain relievers that Kevin was taking like tic-tacs. A combination of “Itis” and the drinks rounded out the trinity that caused him to pass out. The following morning Kevin awoke to the smell of bacon.

 Tina was cool, and had he not passed out Kevin would have attempted to have sex with her, despite the pain of his broken ribs.
 Kevin stuffed his face to the tune of three plates, and assured Tina that he would be back to see her soon. He had, enjoyed the food and the company, so much so that Kevin felt guilty for disparaging the small ragged apartments on Philadelphia's Pearl Avenue. 
He didn’t believe that the “Shaky Grounds” projects warranted their bad reputation.

Tina walked Kevin out to his car, and saw the damage with him.

 Apparently, the baby blue vehicle was the wrong color to be parked in the Blood and Vice Lord neighborhood. The residents of the project had expressed their displeasure with the blue car vigorously while the drunk/drugged/satisfied young man had slept. 

All the tires had been flattened, the windshield was shattered, and Anti-Crip, and Gangster disciple messages had been gouged into the powder blue finish.

The name of the city was a misnomer. Kevin wasn’t feeling the brotherly love.