My first car was a Fiero and it was a while before it was really mine. I put a GT nose on it, a whale tail, bigger rims and wider tires, and I lowered it 2 1/2 inches. But that’s not really what did it. I was a new college student and a bit short on cash. Everything needed was taken care of and everything else was more or less not. One time, a headlight was out so rather than replace it, I kept my brights on. So they wouldn’t shine in oncoming drivers eyes, I adjusted them down. It worked out great until the high beam on the opposing side stopped working. But I just kept driving and when a car in front of me was going too slow, I flashed the lights and they would pull over so I could pass.
When I was barely sixteen, I worked in a tire warehouse that was connected to a mechanic shop which was part of a mall. When shoppers locked their keys in their cars, they would come to us. I got so good that every time the issue came up, I was called to the front. My record was under five seconds and I even helped a dad who locked his keys, and his kids, in the car.
To practice, I would use my own car and I did it so often that I popped the rods on both doors and I couldn’t get in at all. Since the doors were plastic, I popped the clips off of the bottom of the passenger door and to get in, I got down on my knees and elbows and reached up into the door and threw back the unlock rod with my hand.
I got the driver's door fixed but it wasn’t long before the passenger door wouldn’t open at all and I had to roll down the window so friends could climb in Nascar style. Because of her grace when climbing in, I called my girlfriend Daisy Duke and she ate it up. When I got the door fixed and it actually opened, I picked her up and it wasn’t until she had climbed in an out at least eight times over the course of the day, that I told her the door was fixed. I lean back and smile when I think back to those times when it seemed like we had nothing.
