The LuLac Edition #3936, Novembr 21st, 2018

WRITE ON WEDNESDAY

Our "Write On Wednesday" logo

When you start to clean up files on a computer, it becomes a vicious cycle. You get rid of stuff you don’t need but find things you filed, forgot or thought you never saved. Such is the case with today's  Write On Wednesday. This was a piece I wrote when my 1990 LeBaron gave up the ghost. I sent it as an e mail to co workers at Travelocity at the time. This little written piece literally changed my life.
The encouragement from my friends and even bosses gave me the confidence, (well let’s say drive, I always had confidence!) to write. For better or worse, write I have. From 2003, a farewell to a car.

FAREWELL BLACK BEAUTY 

by David Yonki 

The song playing for the final time was "A Hard Days Night" by the Beatles. The final number read, 235, 514. That represents the number of miles I had on my 1990 Chrysler LeBaron convertible. By nature, I am not a "car guy", As a boy, I never got excited by the new designs nor did I spend idle hours drawing them on sketch pads in school. When I became a man the only criteria for a car was much like my reaction back then to a beautiful woman, "Does she look good?" and "Will she go for me?" Those two questions were met with a resounding "yes" when I purchased the Lebaron in the spring of 1990. It looked good and it started up for me. I stood glassy eyed as the excited salesman told me about the airbags and the engine and the pick up it had on the highway. I was going to be driving a convertible, an open car like the characters on "77 Sunset Strip" or the cool guys on "Surfside 6". Mannix never drove a convertible, Rockford drove a Trans Am and those guys always got beat up.
From the get go, this was going to be a car of destiny, history even. I drove my wife and her late friend Mary Carrano to see Jerry Brown stop at Avoca. The car was vandalized by criminals who were later prosecuted.
After the roof was repaired the car ran well. Then one day in the paper Chrysler recalled some of the 1990 LeBarons because of motor and transmission troubles. The 6 ft 4 Chrysler rep with the solid gold front tooth told me all was well after a new engine and transmission were put in. For the record, the car had 3 motors and 2 rebuilt transmissions after that. 
Through the years the front axle broke off, the motor switch on the convertible top shorted out, the motor mounts disintegrated, the front seat wore out totally, the trunk jammed shut for about 6 months, the s hooks that held the roof up came off and the steering wheel came off on route 81 as my friend Frank Martin and I were headed to a Red Barons game.
As I drove with the steering wheel in my lap, I tried to negotiate the traffic on 81 with the steering column, now just a phallic looking stub that I held on to for dear life. My friend's eyes bulged out and impervious to the danger we were in he just kept repeating, "I've never seen anything like this before Dave, I've never seen anything like this".
If Martin thought he had problems, he would be hard pressed to complain if he talked to Mary Ann Yonki. One time my wife and I were coming down route 81 and the door on my side flung open. I tried to close it but it kept on opening up. So, using my left arm, I held on to the door as we drove down the road.  This incident matched up well with an earlier one where on the Hampton Roads Bridge tunnel in Norfolk I got a cinder in my left eye. For those of you who know me, you know I only have sight in the left eye. As the only good visual eye filled with water and burned, I essentially drove blind through the tunnel all the while assuring Mary Ann that everything was fine. I'm not saying the car had a mind of its own but it was a miracle we were not killed that day.
The car had numerous repairs done to it. It had the garden variety of things that go wrong on a car but the mufflers were another story. I did get the Midas guarantee and suffice to say, those guys were never pleased to see me. It is not a coincidence that they went out of business in the Wilkes Barre area and closed up shop during the time I owned this car.
With all its mechanical problems, the car was a show piece. Women smiled when they saw the car. One sunny afternoon in downtown Wilkes Barre, my friend Frank Martin and I were stopped at a traffic light. Two lovely young women walked behind us and one commented, "Look at those two old guys in that nice convertible". Frank and I looked around to see if there was another vehicle similar to mine and when there wasn't, he gravely intoned, "Dave, those girls were talking about us, we're the old guys." As the car aged, it still held the attention of the ladies. A co-worker of mine once dubbed it "gorgeous" but she's worn glasses since the age of 4. But in August in the twilight of its being, a young teenage girl at Kentucky Fried Chicken complimented me on what a cool car I had. True, she was only 15 but I'll take that compliment on behalf of the car.
The car had its share of public appearances too. On a few nights, I participated as a driver for high school and college homecomings. My car, ahead of all the Corvettes and Mustangs, always led the way carrying the homecoming Queen. One year in mid stride around the stadium, the catalytic converter went and more white smoke billowed out of the back than on the day a new Pope is elected. But the car proceeded regally with the Queen and then sped off to lick its wounds.
When I worked at Rock 107, the car always was in the St. Patrick's Day, Halloween and Christmas parades dispensing candy to all the kids and their families. Children would whoop, "Nice car man". There was a Memorial Day parade where I was dressed up as Teddy Roosevelt (thank you Mary Ann!!!) and the car once more got accolades.
The car served as a home away from home when I worked in broadcast sales. The entire back seat was filled with briefcases and ratings books that were the tools of the trade. It is in this capacity of work that I put the bulk of miles on my car. The vehicle knows every little side street and hiding place where all media sales reps go to pass time and take naps. Through the years, the car most likely had more meals consumed in it than a Burger King. The fondest memories I have in sales were when I had a rider for the day. (A sales manager usually will ride with you to see you are selling the radio stations right but primarily to prevent you from taking cat naps on some side street in Moosic or Archbald. ) 
My good friend from WARM Sales, Greg Strom settled in well and enjoyed the ride many times while other sales managers rode only once. Apparently the low riding, pothole seeking vehicle plus the spray from the roof that was never entirely sealed made the car mist in both hot and cold weather. Joey Shaver, a good friend kept on asking when the heat would kick in when it was on its highest setting. After one ride, we took his car.
Black beauty wasn't always black. When I first bought it the car was white but after so many part changes and operations, I had it painted black. Five men kept the car afloat in its advancing years. Rich Culver from Pisano's Sunoco, Alan Harvilla from East End Sunoco, Joe Lokuta from Lokuta's auto in Dupont, Dave Tomko from Performance Engineering and Vito Morreale from Mid City auto used various miracles to keep the car humming. Perhaps the most unique device was the installation of a large black button that served as my horn when the steering wheel fell off. The name black beauty came from my friend David Dellarte who said, "It's black and it's a real beauty!!!" after hearing about still another repair.
The car lived an exciting life. It was pelted by eggs in Millersburg, Pennsylvania where I made a wrong turn during a union dispute, it was nearly repossessed because of a book keeping foul up, it was at one time chased by cops, irate relatives, criminals and crazed women in Ford Pintos. When snowfall came, it became a road pig, gobbling up the snow and getting me home safe and sound as clumps of winter stuck to every conceivable inch of its undercarriage. It also served as a personal pick up truck transferring lawnmowers, boxes, and even Christmas trees in the dead of winter. (Nothing like seeing a convertible tooling down the Cross Valley Expressway, top down freezing weather, with a Blue Spruce sticking straight up in the car!) 
But for all of the heartache and the nuts and bolts, there were glorious memories. A starlit night on New Year's Eve under the stars in a church parking lot in Beer Creek ushering in the New Year with champagne and the woman I love, viewing the fourth of July fireworks under the stars, the pact of Fawn Road, and the hundreds of every day special events that a car transports you to be it a funeral, wedding, graduation or anniversary party. There were no celebrities who rode in it unless you count Harry West, Joey Shaver and Rob Nyehard. But the passenger seat was filled with people I always loved and always cared about. There were many forgettable solitary rides for work and a most memorable one or two after work. 
On the night Frank Sinatra died, I remember sneaking out of bed at 3am, dropping the top and riding around Wilkes Barre/Scranton just listening to his music play on the radio. And of course, every Father's Day there was the solitary ride to the cemetery to blow the horn at "Jake" (my dad) and have him think somewhere in the cosmos, "My son is driving a convertible, God help us all". If he had to blame someone, he could point a finger at Ted Haddock who drove glorious convertibles on Dewitt Street through the years when I was a kid.  He'd turn around in the driveway and tell me I was going to a refotm school, (Kisalyn) but all I saw was the car. Top down. 
All I know about those cars was "I wanted one!
I had hoped to reach my goal of 300,000 miles. But after a repair that was supposed to last me through the winter, the car started spewing green fluid. It was only a busted hose but it was time. I preserved black beauty's dignity by getting something for a trade in and picked up my new car on Wednesday afternoon. After I unpacked the old and got in my new car, I gave the 1990 a nod and drove away. But fate intervened and I couldn't get the radio to work. I went back to the dealership and the kid who was cleaning out my old car showed me how to work the radio in the new car. I had to explain to him why AM radio was important but he helped me anyway. As I steeled myself to drive away, I saw the kid start up black beauty and drive it very gingerly away. The song playing on my new car's AM radio was Sinatra’s "Softly As I Leave You".