I Stole a Truck or Bye-Bye Time Or: A Memoir

By Doctor J.

I STOLE A TRUCK OR BYE-BYE TIME OR is a memoir that focuses on my 20's, the ten years it took me to complete my Ph.D. The book is self-critical in the hope of becoming a better person.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 14, 2009
• ISBN: 9781468528336

Book preview

I STOLE A TRUCK OR

BYE-BYE TIME OR

A Memoir

Doctor J.

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AuthorHouse™

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

© 2009 Doctor J.. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 8/12/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4490-0897-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4685-2833-6 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

I Stole a Truck Or Bye-Bye Time Or

is dedicated to my family.

Some names have been changed.

Take IT slow

Contents

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I 

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The Beautiful Houses 

About Doctor J. 

After we pulled up stakes in San Francisco, we headed for the Mojave Desert. Near the Eagle Mountains, Mom made Dad stop the car. She’d seen a tree on the side of the road that had caught her fancy.

It wasn’t just any tree. It was an ancient Joshua tree. It stood in a crease of land where the desert ended and the mountain began, forming a wind tunnel. From the time the Joshua tree was a tiny sapling, it had been so beaten down by the whipping wind that, rather than trying to grow skyward, it had grown in the direction that the wind pushed it. It existed now in a permanent state of windblownness, leaning over so far that it seemed ready to topple, although, in fact, its roots held it firmly in place.

I thought the Joshua tree was ugly. It looked scraggly and freakish, permanently stuck in its twisted, tortured position, and it made me think of how some adults tell you not to make weird faces because your features could freeze. Mom, however, thought it was one of the most beautiful trees she had ever seen. She told us she had to paint it.

…Mom painted dozens of variations and studies of the Joshua tree. We’d go with her and she’d give us art lessons. One time I saw a tiny Joshua tree sapling growing not too far from the old tree. I wanted to dig it up and replant it near our house. I told Mom that I would protect it from the wind and water it every day so that it could grow nice and tall and straight.

Mom frowned at me. You’d be destroying what makes it special, she said. It’s the Joshua tree’s struggle that gives it its beauty.

-Jeannette Walls

from her memoir The Glass Castle

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I stole a truck. I was only going to test drive the Denali XL, but why not have two for the price of one? A sunny, summer Sunday. The salesman would have loaned me a new corvette using my 1999 G.M.C. Yukon Denali for collateral.

You got a nice ride there.

Thanks, I’m wonderin if I could take a look at that O three silver Denali XL down there?

Sure, you wanna take it for a spin? I’ll be right back.

The salesman went into the dealership. I strolled down the row of new cars, trucks, and sport utility vehicles facing the highway. I looked at the Denali I would be taking for a spin.

The salesman came back. He stuck a key into a lockbox that was hooked onto the driver’s side back window. The lockbox opened and inside was one key. The salesman handed me the key. I unlocked the door, got on the driver’s seat, and started the Denali. I was not sure if I should go alone or wait for him to climb in the passenger side. I paused not to rush things. The salesman walked around the front and got in the passenger side. I put the Denali in reverse and backed out of the spot that faced an open lawn proceeded by a highway.

I don’t need ta go far. I just kinda wanna see how this feels in comparison to mine.

No problem, take’r wherever you want.

I drove once around the parking lot. I drove slowly and placed the truck back in the same spot.

That’s fine. I don’t wanna take too much of your time I just thought I would test it out today to find out how the newer model feels.

Sounds good, well certainly stop back if you wanna work somethin out.

You bet.

As the salesman opened his door to get out, I pressed the button down just a hair for the window behind me where the lockbox was hooked on. I got out. The salesman walked around the truck and secured the key back in the lockbox.

So are we in for more of these sunny days?

Hopefully, it’s just beautiful out isn’t it?

Yeah it really is.

We walked back to my 1999 Denali.

Well thanks again for your time.

You bet, take care.

I got into my Denali and drove directly to the lumber store in the next town. I went straight to the drill press aisle. I looked at the different drills. I found a store clerk.

Which one is the most powerful drill?

Well that depends.

The clerk pointed out several drills that were similar. I looked at the prices between the similar ones and chose the drill that was the least expensive.

Let me take that one, do you have a cart or somethin that I could wheel this up to the counter?

No problem let me get one I’ll be right back.

When he left I picked up the drill in the box to feel the weight. I could lift the box, barely. The store clerk came back with a cart.

Hey, I wonder if you might have some really strong drill bits, bits that are strong enough to cut through diamonds?

Hmm, let me ask hold on.

The clerk found another clerk.

Hey, what drill bits we got that might be strong enough to cut through stuff as hard as diamonds?

Right over here. These ones should do the trick.

You sure these won’t crap out or anything on me?

No, these will last for just about ever, that’s why they’re a bit more expensive.

Ok, well thanks, I’ll try em.

I put the drill bits on the drill press box and wheeled the cart to the front of the lumber store. I paid for both items. The drill press was over $200 and the drill bits were thirteen dollars. I was upset that the drill bits were so expensive but the clerk more or less guaranteed them. I rolled the cart out to my truck. I was able to lift the drill press box into the back of my truck by myself. I tossed the drill bits on the passenger seat and headed home.

I pulled in the driveway and got out to unload the drill press. My neighborhood was full of houses and I did not want to draw too much attention to myself. I did not want anyone to offer me help unloading the drill press. I struggled to unload the drill press box from the back of my truck. I carried the box around back to my part of the house. I rented out the basement of a rambler. There was a pond down a hill in the backyard so there were no nosey white people to ponder in my business. I put the press on the floor, opened the box, and started piecing the puzzle together. I had never before operated, let alone put a drill press together but with some will I made the way. The directions were simple and within twenty minutes I had a drill bit in and the press running. Now I needed the key.

Leaving the drill set up in my living room, I locked my entrance door, walked around the house, and got in my old Toyota pickup. I drove back toward the dealership. Only this time I drove by. I parked on the side road leading to the dealership. I got out of my pickup and quickly moved into the dealership’s parking lot. I watched for customers or salespersons that might see me. When I got to the Denali XL I did not hesitate. I unhooked the lockbox from the cracked open window and put the lockbox down the front of my pants. I placed my hands in my pockets to grip the lockbox so as not to have the lockbox fall to my ankles when I walked. My blood was pumping and I moved fast through the parking lot to get back to my pickup. I had left my door unlocked and as I opened my pickup door to get in I took one last quick look to see if I had been seen. I was good.

I kept the lockbox in my pants the entire drive home. I got home and pulled into my part of the driveway, the right side. I took off my shirt, pulled the lockbox out of my pants, and wrapped the shirt around the lockbox. I got out of my truck and went around back to my apartment. The drill press was standing untouched. The fat woman upstairs who owned the house was not home. There was a dog kennel attached to the side of the garage and a dog hole cut into the garage for her German Shepard to wonder from the garage to the kennel. Walking around back to my basement apartment door I peered into the dog hole to view if her car was in the garage. Her car was gone.

Gripping the lockbox tight with my left hand and lining the keyhole center under the drill bit I flipped the on switch and lowered the lever handle down with my right hand. The drill bit began to carve away at the keyhole. The noise was not too loud, but I wanted to make this quick. I applied more pressure by pushing down on the lever with my right hand. The drill bit busted through the lockbox. I let up on the lever and shut off the drill press with my right hand. There was a clear hole straight through where the keyhole had been. I opened the lockbox with ease. There was the key.

I paused. I unscrewed the drill bit from the drill press and put the drill bit back into the packet with the other drill bits. The drill press broke down fast and easy. I put the drill bit packet in my back pocket and the lockbox in my front pocket. Looking for a place to hide the Denali XL key I went into the common part of the basement. My weights were in this part of the basement as well as a washer and dryer. There was a cabinet backed up against one of the concrete walls. I put the key on top of the cabinet. I walked back into my apartment closing the door to the common area behind me. The drill press fit perfectly back into the box. I picked up the box and brought the box around front to my pickup truck. The sun was beginning to set and I knew I needed to get back to the lumber store soon before they closed. I got the drill press in the back of my pickup. I opened my door and took out the lockbox and drill bits and set them on the passenger seat. I drove in a different direction to the same chain lumber store only in a different town. I parked my pickup and grabbed the lockbox. As I walked into the lumber store, I found a garbage bin and swiftly put the lockbox in the garbage bin. Inside the store I stopped the first clerk I saw.

Do you have a rolling cart? I have a drill press I need to return and the thing is heavy as shit.

Yeah sure, lemme grab one for ya.

The clerk returned and I took the cart out to my pickup. I unloaded the drill press from my truck onto the cart. I wheeled the cart into the store and went to the return desk.

Hi, I need to return this drill press.

I pulled the receipt out of my pocket.

Ok, anything wrong with it?

No, it’s just a bit more than what I need.

She opened the box. She started typing on a computer.

Ok, here you go.

She handed me cash back and a new receipt with the drill bits still on the receipt.

Thank you.

Sure, thank you.

I walked out of the store and got in my pickup. I needed some gas so I stopped at the gas station on my drive home. I picked up the drill bits, got out, and put three dollars worth of gasoline into my pickup. Walking into the store I found a garbage bin and threw the drill bits into the bin. I paid the cashier and drove home.

When I got home the sun had set. The dog was barking. The fat woman upstairs was home. I walked into my apartment and I could hear the blaring of some Cher song. I changed into my reflective running pants and white shirt. Quietly I opened the door to the common area and walked over to the cabinet and got the Denali XL key. I closed the door to the common area and put on my running shoes. Quietly again, I closed the door to my apartment behind me. I took off for my run in the direction of the dealership.

I had been running a minimum of one mile a day, every day, for more than a year. I remember my first mile being nearly impossible. I had lifted weights every single day for more than five years but that helped me little for endurance. Now, as I put my feet forward to go on this five mile run to the dealership, I ran fast. Running left me time to sift and sort my thoughts. I ran on the back roads that led to the dealership. I ran by a restaurant and saw her ex-boyfriend’s Yukon parked outside. I was curious if they were together but I did not see her car. I knew he could have picked her up. I kept running and let the thoughts fade. I crossed the bridge that led to my old high school on one side of the highway and the dealership on the other side. I ran to the dealership.

The key was held by my hand the entire run and was wet with sweat. I slowed my pace until there were no headlights around. I ran across the dealership lawn directly toward the Denali XL. The key fit into the door lock. I hopped onto the driver’s seat, closed the door, and slid the key into the ignition. The Denali started. I put the gear in drive and drove across the lawn onto the highway. There was no way around the thirteen dollars for drill bits.

2 

My Dad instilled in me the devotion toward work. I can remember getting up at the crack of dawn during my high school summers to practice dribbling and shooting a basketball only to take a quick pause from my hands touching the ball to wave at my Dad as he pulled in our driveway just getting home from his seven to seven, five day a week graveyard shift at the railroad. I have long since given up my dreams of becoming a professional basketball player and traded them in for an education. But education does not come free.

I had waited tables in a family restaurant in my hometown of Stillwater, Minnesota for the past three years. For the past three years I had two full-time jobs, waiting and being a student. And two part-time jobs, stealing and selling drugs.

When I was young, my older brother Rocky was in high school and made some 900 number phone calls. My parents were strict with religion at the time and had somehow concluded that Rocky had made the phone calls. There was a fight between Rocky and my parents and he moved out. A few days after Rocky moved out I snuck in his room. Rocky had left much of his stuff. In the closet I found a roll of snuff. I knew Rocky chewed but I did not think that he would come back to claim the snuff. I sold the roll of snuff to a friend. After a week my older brother came back to get the rest of his stuff. Another fight arose between my parents and Rocky and I heard the tail end.

Yeah, well what the fuck happened to the roll of snuff I had? I bet you took that shit too, fuck!

We didn’t take anything of yours. We didn’t even see anything like that in your room. I don’t think anyone has been in there, really.

Bullshit!

Did any of you kids take anything?

I wanted to fess up. Perhaps my brother’s anger, perhaps the situation and I did not want to get involved, or perhaps I got away with something clean. I did not confess. Stealing the roll of snuff was not the first thing I stole and got away with, nor would the snuff be the last.

I met Rob when I was twenty-one on a summer weekend cabin trip with my junior high English teacher, Mr. C. Rob was eight years older than me, he had a kid he never saw, he had been to prison, and he drove a car that I am not sure could classify as a car. I was riding with Rob one day nearing the end of the summer and Rob began talking pipe dreams.

Fuck it, with this janitor job I’ll probably move out from Mister C.’s place, get my own house and shit.

You should get a new car for starters man.

Shit, I’ll probably just fix this puppy up, uhmm? That’d be cool? Replace the doors, get a new paint job, reupholster the interior. Just fix this puppy, that’d be cool…whad about you man? You should really apply at these restaurants downtown Stillwater, get a bar back job or start waiting. You make sweet tips and the bartenders usually let you drink for free after your shift.

I was not working. I needed a job if I was going to continue college. I used Rob’s advice. I applied at three restaurants. After I filled out an application at the third restaurant, a waitress brought the application to a man cooking in the kitchen. I saw the man look over my application. He came out from the