I ain't got no tires

I was driving my Chevy home from school, in March of 1975. I’m coming down the street to the house on Veronica, and something is amiss. There are 3 cop cars in front of my house with 4-5 cops pointing guns at Dad.

Dad is sitting on the front porch in a lawn chair. He has wool socks, Bermuda shorts, no shirt. Behind him and the lawn chair are 2 car tires that don't match.

“Come on Al, give us the tires”


“I ain't got no tires”

“Come on Al, I mean it, give us the tires”

“I ain't got no tires”

Seems Dad was into his drinking. He realized it was my brother Mark's birthday, and he wanted to get him a present. So, being the man he is, he decided to go shopping.

In wool socks, Bermuda shorts and no shirt, Dad walks about 5 short blocks to Kmart. He walks into the auto department, puts a tire on each shoulder, and heads home. At the exit he is met by a security guard, which Dad dispatches with quick right, and he walks home. Turns out, the police were called and they followed him home, to where he ‘hid’ the tires behind a lawn chair, a present for my brother!

I park and walk into this unreal scene. Guns all over the place and cops who are not fond of my Dad.
‘God damn it Dad, what the hell are you doing?, give them the tires”

I fetch them and hand them to the police. The police leave.
“Those were for my son”


Another day on Veronica

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