Us in 1989, in front of our brand new car. I was a week from 32 and believe I had started to shave.
Think that was our second Chevy Celebrity, which all the cops drove, and as we cruised down the Hollywood streets all the other cars would slow down and the crack dealers would slip into the shadows. We were never broken into, even outside Al’s Bar in the optimistically named Arts District just off Skid Row. Not even a crackhead was dumb enough to break into an undercover cop’s car. Sometimes even cops thought I was a cop, and would nod or make secret hand signals so not to blow my cover. I didn’t know the signal but would nod back. I also worked for the CIA and FBI and learned how to say I’m not Migra en español. I remember showing up at a gig to nervous whispers at the door. I got out of the car and a girl came out to meet me. Can I help you officer? Sure, I said, you can help me unload my drums. She carried the snare. Fun car.
That’s a movie star’s jacket, some huge gnarly hunk, I can’t remember who. A friend had copped it from his starwaggon. He had two, she said. Fyl still has that black jacket she’s wearing. It still fits.
Anyway we look very sweet in our nice couple buying a car get ups and clearly not the sort of people who had loud drunken parties full of punks, freaks and losers in their house every single weekend.
“Punks, freaks and losers”. I resemble that remark!
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I remember the time we had a big bottle of white lightning a a room full of Erie punk rockers.
Aw, holy Jes*s. Looks like Brick the punk got trapped in Cronenberg’s transporter booth with Anson Williams. What a sweet photo of you lovebirds!
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That was our second Chevy Celebrity, the undercover police car of choice. No one ever fucked with that car. Crackheads would scatter into the shadows when we passed, no one messed broke into our car no matter how dingy the neighborhood the club was in. Vatos pulled to the curb figuring they’d had it, and even cops thought I was a cop behind the wheel of that thing. The perfect wheels to cruise stoned in. Big and roomy, pure Gemütlichkeit, even had a cassette deck for all the groovy noisy mix tapes I’d assembled in the analog 80’s. That car spun us all through our late 30’s in the crazy rocking 90’s. Loved that car. Of course we fucked in it, need you ask? You didn’t? Well, we did.