My Eighteenth Birthday Part 1
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I heard the front door shut and footsteps in the entry way, so I closed the book, with my finger marking my place, and was rising from the couch when they walked in.
The expression on her face was less than welcoming, but I smiled warmly.
“Wayne, this is my daughter Liesl, Liesl, this is Wayne. There is only six months between you, so I am sure you will find you have things in common. I would really like it if you two could become friends.” Dennis said, smiling at each of us.
“I have a couple of calls I have to make, but after I am done, we can make plans for the rest of the week, okay? Why don’t you two get acquainted, this shouldn’t take more than a half hour or so.”
After he left the room, Liesl wandered over and plopped down, in an arm chair, tucking her legs up under her butt. I sat down, laying my book aside.
“I imagine this was as big a surprise to you as it was to me. Maybe even bigger, since I knew I had a biological father out there somewhere, just not who it was.” I said lightly, inviting a response.
“And you found a rich one, good for you!” she said brightly, smiling at me.
I grinned and shook my head. “No, I found a mechanic who has worked as an engine builder in my grandfather’s garage for the last twenty years. I knew him as the friendly guy who would keep me from falling in the grease pit, and who would sneak me sugar cubes when I was four. I found out that the one person in the whole town, and that includes my so-called family, who actually treated me like a human instead of a mistake, was really my father. I was pretty happy with that. This...” I said, waving my hand around, “came as quite a shock yesterday, and I couldn’t care less about any of it. Having a father who was a mechanic was good enough.”
She looked surprised by that, but no friendlier. “So now the prodigal son returns, a certified genius from all accounts. I suppose you expect to be his new favorite? The bastard who will inherit because he has testicles instead of breasts?” she snarked, scowling at me.
“I am sorry you feel that way. I don’t want anything beyond getting to know the man that knocked up my mother. If you feel you need to,” I made quote marks with my fingers “‘protect your rights’, I would be glad to sign away any claim. Liesl, I don’t want to replace you, I don’t want to make you feel like you have to fight for your father’s affection or attention.” I told her honestly, shrugging my shoulders.
She looked thoughtful, her shoulders slumping. “You aren’t anything like mom said you would be.” she said softly, looking troubled.
“What did she expect me to be?” I asked, curious.
“She said you were some bastard son of one of the whores he sleeps with, that you probably weren’t even his real son, just a way for them to get their hands on his money, his inheritance.” she said, looking embarrassed. “But you look just like him!” she blurted out, blushing.
“Maybe we shouldn’t tell your father what your mother said. I think it would just upset him. How about this, can we start over? Hi, I’m Wayne and it’s nice to meet you! You are much prettier than my other half-sister.” I said with a grin.
She grinned back at me and it transformed her face from a cold, pouty brat into a pretty young girl.”
“I think that’s a good idea.” Dennis said from the entrance to the kitchen.
We both whirled around, not knowing he was in the room or how long he had been standing there.
“Daddy, I...” Liesl started to say, but Dennis held up his hand.
“Believe it or not, Angel, I am not surprised by your mother’s attitude. It might surprise you to know that she has known about Wayne since I found out, back when he was four years old.” he said, turning and walking out of the room again.
Liesl looked like she was ready to cry, so I moved over, and got down on one knee next to her chair. “I have the feeling very little gets past that man.” I said lightly, patting her hand.
“I’m sorry I was such a bitch.” she said, her lip trembling.
“When? We just now met, remember?” I said, holding out my hand to shake hers.
She smiled, then leaned forward and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek.
“I am pleased to meet you, little brother, I am Liesl” she said, pulling back and grinning.
“Little brother? Six whole months doesn’t exactly make you an old maid, you know.” I said, shaking my finger at her.
“Well, I am older, and I always thought it would be neat to have a little brother or sister. Just wait until I try and dress you up and make you have tea parties with me!” she said, giggling.
I threw up my hands in mock terror, “Oh no! Not that!”
We ended up getting along pretty well. We sat and chatted for almost an hour. Liesl attended a girl’s preparatory academy in San Diego, the ‘in’ place for the well-to-do and famous, but she hated it.
“We have to wear uniforms, there are no boys!” she complained.
“Uniforms?” I asked innocently, and she scowled at me.
“Don’t go there, Wayne. I know what guys think.” she said sharply, blushing a bit.
I wisely changed the topic. “So, you are a freshman? I guess prep schools are all about getting you ready for college, right? Do you already know where you want to go?”
She shook her head. “I don’t have a clue what I want to do yet. It seems like just last year I wanted to be a princess, the president, a female astronaut ... how am I supposed to choose a college when it takes me an hour to choose an outfit for the movies on Saturday night?” she asked, laughing.
“What about you? Dad told me that you were like a genius or something. Are you really a senior?”
I waggled my hand back and forth. “Yes, but it is more a formality, really.” I said, then explained about how there were some state rules about minimum class time for some subjects and how I wasn’t allowed to test out of them.
“I have to finish a couple of classes, like Spanish, in order to meet the California requirements. So, I went from eighth grade to twelfth.”
“But, if you are so smart, why did you go to all eight years before this?” she asked, sounding interested.
I explained about my parents’ refusal to let me advance, and about the school in England I had attended that let me advance as fast as I could show I had mastered the subjects I was learning. I explained how that had really fanned my desire to move ahead and how I got the school administrators in Texas on my side, with a little help of the wife of a retired general.
“Wow, that is so cool! I wish I was that smart, I would love to just skip all the high school stuff. Besides, college guys are so hunky.” she said with a laugh, waggling her eyebrows.
I buffed my nails on my chest. “Yes ... yes, we are.” I said as snootily as I could manage, making her laugh again.
“Oh gag!”
“Well, you two seem to be getting along well.” Dennis said, coming back in the room.
Liesl was up like a shot, her arms around her father’s waist. “I’m sorry, daddy. I know how mom is and I know I shouldn’t have listened.” she said tearfully.
“Don’t apologize to me, angel, I am not mad at you. Liesl, everyone jumps to conclusions, and everyone, at one time or another, makes a mistake in judgment, even me. The trick is to learn from it. Besides, Wayne doesn’t look all that upset, so I guess he isn’t holding a grudge.”
“Well, there is that whole ‘little brother’ nonsense, but I think I can live with that.” I said jokingly.
Liesl just stuck her tongue out at me, getting a laugh from both me and her father.
“So,” Dennis said, taking a seat. “What are we doing this week? I told your grandparents we would be over on Thursday afternoon, they want us to spend the night and go to the club with them on Friday. Your grandfather is getting some lifetime achievement award from the state bar association and would like us to be there. But that means we have this afternoon and all day tomorrow, as well as Friday evening and Saturday morning.”
“Mexican food!” Liesl crowed, looking excited.
Dennis shrugged and looked at me, I shrugged and looked at Liesl, she just scowled at both of us.
“We are so close to the border down there, with the best Mexican food in the world, and I never get any! Mom’s all “It’s so pedestrian” but I love it.”
I laughed at her impersonation, thinking she sounded just like the woman I had seen outside today. Dennis, on the other hand, not wanting to encourage her, hid his smile behind his hand, but he didn’t fool either of us.
“I’m all for it. Fajitas sound good to me.” I said.
Dennis led the way to the garage and when he flipped on the light, I stumbled. I couldn’t help it. In the garage, which was a hell of a lot bigger than I had imagined, there was a 69 Triple back Camaro SS with a 396, a 68 Yenko Camaro with the 427, a 70 Dodge Challenger in Plum Crazy, a 70 Cuda Coupe in Limelight green, the 80 Vette he drove to pick me up in and last, but certainly not least, a 1939 Cadillac LaSalle convertible coupe.
I ran directly to the Cuda, then the Yenko, then the Challenger. I was unbelievably stoked. I didn’t realize was acting like a spaz until I heard them laughing at me.
I looked up, offended, but then realized I must have looked like a crack head chasing down my next hit, and blushed.
“Sorry, I ... I mean, I didn’t know! If I wasn’t your son, I would want to be, just to ride in these someday.” I said, laughing at myself.
“I didn’t think you were into cars. I drove the Corvette, thinking if you liked cars at least a little, you would like that one.” Dennis said, grinning like, well, like a proud father.
“I love cars, but, not to make you angry or anything, the Vette? It’s all show and no go these days. I haven’t liked the third generation since 72, and then mostly the ZR1. The gas crisis, the emissions junk, detuned motors and, frankly, that shooting brake rear window ruined them.” I said, shaking my head.
Dennis was laughing his ass off. He was laughing so hard he had to sit down on the steps leading into the house, wiping the tears from his eyes.
When he finally caught his breath, he looked up at Liesl, who was rolling her eyes and trying not to laugh at the two of us. “Well, Angel? Any doubts now?”
When she cracked up, he started laughing again.
“Wayne, I took the Vette in partial payment for a restoration I am doing. I got it for $6,000 and only 1200 miles on it. I already have a buyer for it at $10,000. If I had known, I would have driven that Cuda you were drooling over. What say we take it tonight?”
“YES! Shotgun!” I called heading for the Cuda. “Hey, no Hemi badging, so tell me this at least has the 440!”
“Six pack!” he called out and that earned him another cheer.
Dinner was great, but the ride in the car was better. Dennis told us to hold on and, as soon as we got out of the development, he lit those tires for several hundred feet. I almost made a mess in my jeans, and even Liesl, in the back seat, was yelling and laughing.
The next day we just went and had fun. We went go-cart racing, to a movie, took Liesl to the mall and ended up at a seafood place down by the Marina. Thursday morning, we went out for breakfast and headed down to Ventura to see the grandparents. We took a different car each day, and the trip to Ventura was in the LaSalle because Dennis said his father loved the car and it needed to be driven.
We made quite a sight tripping down the freeway in a classic steamship sized Cadillac!
The house his parents, my grandparents, lived in was very close in size and style to Dennis’s house, and even backed on to the golf course, though it was the first tee, so within walking distance to the clubhouse. I was interested to see that his father’s garage was smaller, but not that much smaller, with six single garage doors instead of four doubles.
His parents were waiting on the front steps when we arrived, and I realized that the gatehouse must have called when we came through. Liesl was riding shotgun today and she was out like a shot, giving her grandmother a hug.
“Dennis, you ready to sell me this heap of rust?” were the first words I heard from my grandfather’s mouth as I pushed the seat forward to get out of the car.
“I told you a hundred times that I’d trade for that hunk of fiberglass you have in the garage covered in a decade of dust.” Dennis said, laughing at what was obviously an old joke between the two.
When I got out and closed the car door, Dennis’s father made a beeline towards me, beating his wife by a step, but no more.
“Son, I am so glad to finally meet you.” he said, tears in his eyes. He shook my hand in both of his, but I was soon engulfed in a hug from his wife.
“You look just like Dennis when he was your age!” she cried, wrapping her arms around me.
I looked over her shoulder and saw Liesl with her arm around her dad’s waist, a smile on her face, so I relaxed. I had worried about her reaction.
“I am more than pleased to meet both of you. I knew I had to have more grandparents out there somewhere, I just didn’t know where.” I said, feeling a little choked up at the welcome. “This has been quite a month for me.”
“I have no doubt in my mind, son. When Dennis told us about you, well, we were some surprised but the more we thought about it, the harder it was not to come right down and butt in. Dennis convinced us to wait, but we were getting a little impatient.” he said with a laugh.
“At the risk of being disowned on the first day, what hunk of fiberglass was Dennis talking about?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. Grandma Jessen covered her mouth, trying to hide a smile, and Grandfather Jessen glared at me, then turned and glared at his son.
“Did you put him up to this?” he asked, sounding annoyed.
“No way. He about had a fit when he walked in my garage. He knows more about those cars that most of the mechanics that work for me.” Dennis said with a huge grin on his face.
“Well, that figures.” he grumped, then sighed. “Ah well, we survived one, we can survive another.” He shook his head, then winked at me. “Come on, let me show you.”
When he pulled a remote out of his pocket and started hitting buttons, I knew that all the grumping was for show. Grandpa Jessen may not have been a gear head, but he liked sports cars.
The first garage held the car I had asked about. A 1963 Corvette Split Window Coupe. I ignored the rest for a moment and looked inside. It had A/C! I reached in to pop the hood, then froze, blushing. I looked back to see if I had been busted and I had, but he just waved me on.
I popped the hood and it had the Rochester fuel injection, making this a Z-06, the first Z-06 Corvette made, with only 199 produced. This car was worth a bunch today, and by 2000, it would be worth a hell of a lot more.
“What is it, son?” Grandpa Jessen asked innocently, obviously testing me.
“Well, it if is all original, then it is a Z-06, one of 199 built that year. With the 33-gallon tank, the Rochester setup under the hood. But, with A/C and AM/FM, I would say it was probably more like one of one, since they were made and ordered primarily for racing.” I told him, scratching my head. I opened the passenger door and looked inside, looking for the VIN plate that should be welded under the glove box, but there wasn’t one.
“What did you do, Grandpa Jessen, get an engineering sample or something?” I asked, confused. “There is no VIN plate.”
Grandpa Jessen looked at Dennis, who was laughing and had his back to us, then started to chuckle himself.
“I suppose Dennis could have coached you on that. What about the next one?” he asked, his smile getting wider.
The next bay held a Mercedes 300Sl, the one with the gull wing doors. I didn’t know much about them. The thing that stuck in my head was I remembered reading that Mercedes had offered them for a real discount in late 50s to American servicemen. They had built the cars from mid-50’s to late 60’s.
“I don’t know a lot about Mercedes, but this 300SL Coupe was a big deal. This is the car that changed Mercedes image from that of a boring family car to a sports car company. They made these from the mid-fifties to the late sixties, but I don’t know how many. I know they offered them at a discount to American GIs in the late fifties, but that’s about it.” I said, shaking my head.
Grandpa Jessen had a poker face, so I wasn’t sure if I had won that round or not.
The last two slots were newer cars, the first being a 1980 Chrysler Cordoba, not what I would have chosen by any means, but it was a big, comfortable car.
“Is this Cordoba Grandma Jessen’s car?” I asked, skipping it to look at the last car. Now that was more like it, though it was never as good as it was supposed to be, it became something of a cult classic later on. The Delorean DMC12.
“This ... The DMC 12, all steel body, gull wing door, anemic engine, more of that looks over function thinking like the 80 Corvette that Dennis has. They are nice, but I would be willing to make a bet that the company folds before the end of next year.” I said, shaking my head. “It will probably be a collectible someday though.”
I turned and saw Grandpa Jessen shaking his head.
“He’s hopeless, just like you, Dennis!” he said, then started laughing. He came over and put his arm around my shoulder and led me around the garage, the rest of the family following.
“Let me show you something. It was going to be a surprise for your dad, but it was finished early.” he said, a hitch in his voice.
There was a stand-alone building behind the house that looked like an old barn, but much newer.
“Help me get these doors open, son. Dennis, you turn around and look the other way until I tell you.” he ordered and waited until Dennis threw up his hands and turned around. Grandma Jessen whispered in Liesl’s ears and her eyes went wide, both hands coming up to cover her mouth.
Grandpa Jessen unlocked the big padlock and grabbed one door, I grabbed the other and we pulled them open. Sitting inside was, in my mind, the holy grail of modern (post 2000) hotrod enthusiasts. It was a 1938 Ford with a flathead V8, open wheel, white flames on a black body and it was immaculate.
Grandpa Jessen looked for a second, then reached inside a threw a switch, bathing the car in light. He winked at me, then turned around.
“Okay, Dennis. It’s a little early, but happy birthday, son.”
Dennis turned around and I thought he was going to faint. His face got pale and his knees wobbled, but he stalked forward, stiff-legged and his mouth wide open. When he got to the doorway, he stopped and stared, then turned to his father.
“It’s not...” he started to say, but Grandpa Jessen was holding up a key on a battered old keychain.
“Found it a couple of years ago, had mother dig through the old papers in the cellar to be sure. It’s yours, son, the one you sold when you went off to college in Denver.”
Dennis rushed his father, wrapping his arms around the man and lifting him from his feet.
“Put me down, damn you!” Grandpa Jessen yelled, but he was smiling. Dennis set him down and we watched him as he slowly walked around the car once, then opened the suicide door and sat inside. He just sat there, tears rolling down his cheeks. When he inserted the keys, Grandpa Jessen put his fingers in his ears just in time. One crank of the key and the car started, a thundering exhaust note echoing off the inside of the small garage.
Dennis pulled it out onto the drive, then shut it down.
“Wayne, this was my first car.” he said, quietly, wiping his eyes. “I loved it, but mom and dad hated it. They told me they would send me to any college I wanted but urged me to sell it. I looked for it after I came back, but I heard someone had totaled it.”
“Found it at an auction. Old Lenny Marks, my old bailiff, he saw it and he called me. Mother found the papers in the basement and I drove down in time to bid on it.” Grandpa said, his own eyes suspiciously moist.
Dennis stood up straight, turning to face his father. His hand went into his pocket and came out with some keys which he pressed into his father’s hand. He marched right back to the hotrod and climbed in, running his hands all over the wheel, the dash the seats with a huge smile on his face.
Grandpa Jessen stood there for a minute, looking at the keys in his hand, then he marched over to Dennis.
“What the hell is this?” He asked, dangling the keys Dennis had given him.
“Can’t drive two cars home, Dad, guess you will just have to hang on to that old LaSalle for me. I’ll send over the spare parts next week with the papers.” Dennis said, not even looking at his father.
“This was not a trade, it was a gift!”
“Yep, you got that exactly right, dad.” Dennis said, and Grandma Jessen started laughing, taking both me and Liesl by the arms.
“Come on you two, when those two get like this, they could be at it for hours. They’re both hard headed and I want to spend some time with my granddaughter and my new grandson.”
Grandma Jessen was a peach, a really sweet woman who made me feel welcome from the first minute I stepped foot in her house. Unlike how I would probably feel after the 42nd viewing, I actually enjoyed seeing Dennis’s baby pictures, stories about him as a boy and even pictures and stories about relatives I had never heard of. Liesl, having heard them before, smiled at me and turned on the television.
Grandpa Jessen and Dennis came in a half hour later, still arguing, but it was clear they were having fun, so everyone else ignored them.
Dinner that night was a traditional Danish meal of fried pork slices served with a compote of apple, onion and bacon and it was delicious! We sat around after dinner, with Grandma and Grandpa Jessen telling stories about Dennis as a teen, about bailing him out of trouble with his hotrod and him chasing girls all over the Santa Barbara valley.
The next morning, after breakfast, with all of us dressed in Sunday best, we trooped over to the Country Club by walking out the back door and around the first tee.
The California Bar Association Lifetime Achievement Awards ceremony was being held in the ballroom, and there were more than a thousand people wandering around when we walked in. Dennis joked that this was a target rich environment for people who hated lawyers, earning himself a glare from his father and a disapproving look from his mother.
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