03-08-2008, 09:20 PM
This comes from our Abbotsford News and is written by Allen Unrau - a fictional story about real-life issues:
"Mrs, Daley, I'm Neil, from the salvage yard. Your VW Bug is on my truck. Where should I drop it?"
"Just lift it over the back fence. I'm sure it's still too wide to go through the gate."
Jolene Daley walks into the backyard of her townhouse to direct the driver. She's in her late 40s with styled ash-blonde hair, a navy business suit and black leather pumps.
The crane lifts a cube of crushed green metal high in the air, then lowers it onto the patio next to her barbecue.
As the driver unhooks the chains, he remarks, "Not much oleft of this one. Your husband need it for parts?"
"I don't have a husband now."
"You work on old cards? You don't seem the type."
"This is 'Kermit," my very first car. A miracle happened as I was driving to the office last week. I was in the left lane, and there he was, right beside me on a flatdeck truck underneath a buncyh of other squashed cards. It gave me shivers to relize that it was really him - the colour of lime-green sherbet with my memories still stuck to his back bumper. I followed him to the yard. The clerk said they didn't sell wrecks to the public, but I persisted."
She bends down and points to the chrome back bumper, the only part still intact: three faded decals, a yellow daisy coming out of the "F" in San Francisco, a purple peace sign and a red "Kelsey College" parking permit.
"It was fate that I got him back."
"This isn't a VW Bug anymore, Mrs. Daley. It's just scrap. Why would you want it in your backyard?"
"Kermit was a loyal friend. I loved his cute round eyes, his 'bneep bneep' horn and the way his beige vinyl seats smelled on hot days."
"It sounds like you were really happy back then."
"Those were the best years of my life. All I've got now is my job."
At that moment, a white-haired man with a black vinyl binder steps through her back gate. James Richter, strata president. A group of concerned neighbours press in behind him.
"I'm here to enforce strata rule number 3A concerning 'undriveable' vehicles," he says. "You are hereby given notice to remove this unsightly piece of junk."
Jolene turns to the white-haired man.
"Kermit is family to me."
"I always thought you to be an intelligent woman," replied the president. "Remove it immediately."
The neighbours disperse quickly, shaking their heads. A re-haired woman comments, "Lady sure is strange since her husband left."
"Mrs. Daley," the truck driver says, "can I talk to you in private?"
They step into her sunroom, and she closes the sliding door.
"Mrs. Daley, we won the salvage yard. I had a red TransAM when I was 18. It was everything to me. My little brother drove it without asking and wrapped it around a pole. He died.
"My family wanted to dispose of the wreck right away. I said no, it's part of my life. But when I got to work a week after the funeral, it had disappeared into the shredder."
"So, you know how I feel right now?"
"Sort of. But I aldso know you can be happy again. Memories are only a small part of who you really are."
With Jolene sobbing, Neil wraps the chains around the crushed green cube and hoists it back onto the truck deck.
Two weeks later, a rectangular package arrives at Jolene's door from Consolidated Salvage. It's Kermit's rear bumper, decals and all, turned into a wall shelf with easy-to-install mounting brackets.
The card reads, "Enjoy the memories, but don't forget to look to the future. You're stronger than you think. Neill."
"Mrs, Daley, I'm Neil, from the salvage yard. Your VW Bug is on my truck. Where should I drop it?"
"Just lift it over the back fence. I'm sure it's still too wide to go through the gate."
Jolene Daley walks into the backyard of her townhouse to direct the driver. She's in her late 40s with styled ash-blonde hair, a navy business suit and black leather pumps.
The crane lifts a cube of crushed green metal high in the air, then lowers it onto the patio next to her barbecue.
As the driver unhooks the chains, he remarks, "Not much oleft of this one. Your husband need it for parts?"
"I don't have a husband now."
"You work on old cards? You don't seem the type."
"This is 'Kermit," my very first car. A miracle happened as I was driving to the office last week. I was in the left lane, and there he was, right beside me on a flatdeck truck underneath a buncyh of other squashed cards. It gave me shivers to relize that it was really him - the colour of lime-green sherbet with my memories still stuck to his back bumper. I followed him to the yard. The clerk said they didn't sell wrecks to the public, but I persisted."
She bends down and points to the chrome back bumper, the only part still intact: three faded decals, a yellow daisy coming out of the "F" in San Francisco, a purple peace sign and a red "Kelsey College" parking permit.
"It was fate that I got him back."
"This isn't a VW Bug anymore, Mrs. Daley. It's just scrap. Why would you want it in your backyard?"
"Kermit was a loyal friend. I loved his cute round eyes, his 'bneep bneep' horn and the way his beige vinyl seats smelled on hot days."
"It sounds like you were really happy back then."
"Those were the best years of my life. All I've got now is my job."
At that moment, a white-haired man with a black vinyl binder steps through her back gate. James Richter, strata president. A group of concerned neighbours press in behind him.
"I'm here to enforce strata rule number 3A concerning 'undriveable' vehicles," he says. "You are hereby given notice to remove this unsightly piece of junk."
Jolene turns to the white-haired man.
"Kermit is family to me."
"I always thought you to be an intelligent woman," replied the president. "Remove it immediately."
The neighbours disperse quickly, shaking their heads. A re-haired woman comments, "Lady sure is strange since her husband left."
"Mrs. Daley," the truck driver says, "can I talk to you in private?"
They step into her sunroom, and she closes the sliding door.
"Mrs. Daley, we won the salvage yard. I had a red TransAM when I was 18. It was everything to me. My little brother drove it without asking and wrapped it around a pole. He died.
"My family wanted to dispose of the wreck right away. I said no, it's part of my life. But when I got to work a week after the funeral, it had disappeared into the shredder."
"So, you know how I feel right now?"
"Sort of. But I aldso know you can be happy again. Memories are only a small part of who you really are."
With Jolene sobbing, Neil wraps the chains around the crushed green cube and hoists it back onto the truck deck.
Two weeks later, a rectangular package arrives at Jolene's door from Consolidated Salvage. It's Kermit's rear bumper, decals and all, turned into a wall shelf with easy-to-install mounting brackets.
The card reads, "Enjoy the memories, but don't forget to look to the future. You're stronger than you think. Neill."