Updated: Aug 16, 2021
The time has an amazing quality, it is always flowing forwards regardless of whoever you are and whenever you might be.
Our new time in the new for us country wasn't any different. The hot months of the Des Moines summer were gone and the fall season came about and gone quickly. December didn’t bring any snow to us. It was kinda cold, but we didn’t see an American winter yet. It seemed to us that we adopted well already to everyday life in general.
Lily continued to study English in the community college and I continued to buff floors at the county hospital every night. Little Mark stayed with the grandparents while we weren't home and our new American life became a routine.
Every week I wrote letters. Those were letters to my parents, who couldn't leave Riga with us, and to our friends there. Many of them desperately wanted to leave the country but couldn’t. Most of the legal ways to emigrate from the USSR cease to exist right after the famous Moscow Olympics of 1980. The games were over and the Soviets didn’t seek any favors from the west anymore, therefore the emigration for the Jews of the Soviet Union was closed by Party’s Central Comity indefinitely.
Yet, if there is a will, there would be the way.
Lily and I decided to help some old friends of ours who stayed behind in Riga. I was writing to different emigrants aid societies all over the world and was asking for help. Finally, one organization replied and we got an opportunity to sponsor one family. We tried to help three families of our friends, but actually only one got through the bureaucratic burden. Yes, I have to admit, I did lie. I fabricated the story about a favorite cousin of mine whose family wanted to emigrate and couldn't. All was true in my story, except I had no family ties with them. We were good friends, that was all the connection. So it was a white lie. The lie that gave us a chance to free somebody and we took it. We were excited, so as our friends in Riga. A man, his wife, and a little boy got an opportunity to come and to be free. And if you are wondering, there was nothing illegal about it. They, just like Lily and I, went through the emigration process, waited for permission, and when granted happily joined us in America.
We managed to reserve an apartment for them in the same building as us. With the help of some friends, we collected the donated furniture and household items. We were ready to welcome a new family. The only thing missing was the car. We drove the only car donated to emigrants by the Jewish Family Services. It was time for us to purchase our own and to leave that car for the newcomers.
I have worked at the hospital for more than four months already. I worked every workday night and some weekends too. We budgeted ourselves strongly allowing us to spend not more than $20 a week for the groceries. Rent and the utilities Jewish Family Services paid for us for the first four months. Therefore we collected some savings. It was unbelievable, we got the whole $1000. With that, I certainly could buy a really “good” car.
P-1
I, however, had few dilemmas. First, I didn't know anything about cars, neither the Soviet ones nor the Americans. Second, I didn't know anything about buying those, neither in Russia nor in America. And the third, I didn't want to ask our parents-in-law for help. They already did so much by granting us such a warm welcome here, that I was reluctant to ask them for any additional help. I understand now, that it was very silly of me, but it was how I felt back then. I wanted to do everything by myself and so I did.
Among some other emigrants, I met a fellow who came over from some faraway Asian part of the Soviet Union. Back over there he worked for the local police, or “militia”, as it was called. He told me that he dealt with the police vehicles and knew those in and out. He seemed to be an excellent person to ask for the needed help. And so I did.
Misha was an interesting fellow. My senior by about 10-12 years, he was more mature than I.
He listened to my request in silence.
The constant presence of the cigarette at the corner of his mouth, a long dark raincoat, a wide brim hat covering one of his eyes; all that made his personality stand up. He was Colombo and Perry Mason, all in one with the touch of Cosmo Kramer in his character.
He gave me his fatherly look, moved the cigarette from one corner of the mouth to another using nothing but his tongue and whisper, -
“I like what you are doing. You are asking the right person for help and I will help you. You do know nothing. You have been in America only a few months and your understanding about anything here is a big, big zero.”- He stopped talking and gave me a very expressive, downgraded look.
I stood quietly.
“ You will do as I say and everything will be alright”- Misha declared leaving to me no choice but to agree.
“ What day is it today?”- asked Misha.
“Saturday.”- I replied quickly.
" A Friday was yesterday, and the Sunday..., the Sunday would be coming tomorrow"- philosophically said Misha and took a huge swallow of his cigarette smoke.
“The car dealerships are working and we could try to see some cars. Maybe?”- I inquired politely.
Misha gave me another one of his fatherly looks.
"...expected to try to see some cars???”- He mimicked me and burst into sarcastic laughter.
“Look at him, ... just four months here, instant American... You know nothing! You... Saturday everybody goes shopping for cars. Everybody! Do you understand?
We will be going when they, the salespeople, do not expect us to come. We are gonna go Monday, and not just anytime on Monday.
P-2
We gonna go Monday night just before they wanted to close the business and to go home.
And we are not gonna go to the car dealership. No. That is for the fools!”- Misha declared and continued in a whisper, - “I will take you to my very special place. Come and see me day after tomorrow early evening“.
I agreed, Misha didn't leave me any other option.
The next Monday I came to see him and he welcomed me to his car.
His car was a Lincoln Continental Town Coup Mark III,1971. It was a big and beautiful creation of the “cheap American gas” era so abruptly ended by the oil crisis of the 70s. Those awesome cars lost their value and therefore became very affordable for people like us. Back in the USSR, we all dreamt about an American luxury. Cars like that were the closest and the fastest way to touch it.
Des Moines wasn’t a very big city by any means of the measurements, but we drove for a long time.
“We are going to the south side.”- said Misha.
“I will take you to the place they call a junkyard.”- he continued.”It is a famous American cemetery for cars. Some smart guys work there and they assemble very good cars from the different parts. Americans call places like that a chop shop. Chop-chop and the car would be yours!”
The idea by itself sounded logical to me and I didn’t disagree. I liked the chop-chop idea. Of course, I didn’t know that chop shop is American slang for places where stolen cars are disassembled for the parts. I suspect now that Misha didn't know about it either.
It was early December and the long days of the summer ended a long time ago. By the time we made it to the place, it wasn't even twilight. It was pitch dark. There were three cars parked in front of the old tools shed that happened to be an office. Two shady-looking characters came out to meet us.
“Do you have cars to sell? Chop-chop...”- asked Misha figuratively clapping his hands and slowly fiddling with the cigarette in his mouth.
“Yes, we do”- replied the shady guy number one. He giggled and pointed to the cars parked in front of the toolshed.
“He will buy. You will show.”- said Misha in a very heavy but resolute tone of voice pointing his finger accordingly.
“We got three cars,”- said the first shady guy. The second one was observing occurring conversation silently.
Misha turned to me and explained very quickly in Russian.
He told me that I should choose the car I do not like. I should start asking questions about it. Many questions. As many as I can. And I wasn't supposed to smirk all the time, like an idiot who was in America only about 4 months and thinks that... I must be very serious.
Then I was supposed to change the subject of the conversation and say the provocative phrase, ”And what do you want for this piece of junk, Ha?” That was the moment I should point to the real car of my liking and stop all of the talking at once!
That plan was a stroke of genius. I realized that.
It was difficult for me to choose the right car. All three cars were beautiful to me. All three were about the same size and color. One of them had silver letterings on the side saying, Royal Monaco. Oh! Royal... I definitely loved that one.
P-3
So, I did everything exactly as Misha told me. I pointed to another car. I asked questions. I didn't smile. Not even once. And then I quickly changed the subject of the conversation. I pointed to Royal Monaco and asked provocatively: ”Do it work?”- and I add "chop-chop..."
" Wrong question, you idiot..."- Misha burble through his teeth in Russian.
“Yes, it does.”- said the shady character number one.
”Do you like to take it for a run?”- said the shady character number two and invitingly smiled.
“No, ...” I hesitated... I didn’t remember what to say next. So, I decided to improvise, - “And how much you want for this piece of junk?”- I asked provocatively following the advice of my American mentor to the point.
This time both shady characters started to giggle.
“You are doing great”, said Misha. - “Now let me take the charge!”
He stepped forward and slowly started to walk toward Royal Monaco.
The yellow gateway light at the tool shed-office shined to the front of the automobile leaving the back of it in the unknown darkness. The exiting mystery was floating in the air.
Misha advanced the car carefully. The uneven brim of Misha’s hat was covering one of his eyes. The never-ending cigarette was sparkling red and slowly traveling from one side of his mouth to another. His long dark raincoat was blowing on a cold December wind. The edges of it were almost touching the ground, but Misha didn't seem to care. He was on the mission. Suddenly he jumped up and crash-landed with the whole weight of his body on the corner of the car.
“ One, two, and three.”- he counted loudly.
"Misha, why did you do that? Are you alright? - I asked.
“ I just check the suspension” - my American mentor explained.
“Is that good?” - I asked.
Both shady characters giggled louder and louder. They didn't hide their laughter anymore.
We got inside the car. Misha got to the driver's side and me to the passenger side. It was very soft and comfortable and smelled sweet and irritating.
“This is the new car smell” - stated Misha.
“It kinda stinks,” - I replied.
“You don’t understand. You have been in America for not quite a 4 months and know nothing you ...”
I interrupted him and asked to continue this car checking. I was getting exasperated, embarrassed, and almost desperate. I wanted this to be over with and the sooner, the better.
“What are you doing now? Stop. You’re going to break it.” - I yelled.
“You are a fool, I am looking for a tilt” - Misha explained.
“How does it look? Maybe I have seen it? - I inquired. I really wanted to help, but by the look that Misha gave me, I understood my total purposeless.
The two shady characters weren't giggling anymore. They were bursting in an unstoppable explosion of laughter.
“Misha, can I buy this car?” - That time it was I, who asked in a heavy and resolute voice.
P-4
He didn't reply. He got out, made another circle around the car, and jumped up again. I looked at him hopelessly. That time he didn’t land on the car corner. He dropped flat down to the ground.
“Oh my,”- I thought, He missed... Oy...
I was wrong, however. Misha apparently was looking for something under the car. When he finally stood up I asked him again if I could buy this car already.
“Oh, yes,” - said Misha”... only if you like it.”
“ Do we need to take it for a run?” - I asked.
“Not really” - he answered - “If they are offering this car for a sale, it should be running. They aren't the idiots,” - he stated and expressively pointed his finger to his temple.
I looked at the giggling shady characters and asked them for a price.
They wanted $1500. I had $1050. I offered $1000 and they agreed immediately. I gave them my money. They gave me the keys and some paperwork.
They explained something to me, but I couldn’t understand anything in English anymore. I was very happy it was over.
***
That night I drove my own car home. I was a bit stressed up from the experience, but it was a good feeling. It was hard for me to follow Misha’s car in the dark, but I accomplished that task very well.
It was quite cold, but Lily waited for me on the porch of our apartment building. We were gone for a while and she was a little worried.
I made my big announcement. For the first time in our life, we had our own car. It was a fantastic and overwhelming feeling. The old never coming dream of my past finally came true.
The next morning Misha stopped by before work to check on us.
We were incredibly happy and I thanked him from the bottom of my heart.
“I looked under the car last night, remember?”- asked Misha.
"Yes, I do",- I replied, "but I didn't understand the meaning of that action. For a minute I thought you heard yourself. I am sure you have seen something there, under the car. Was it good?"
“Your car leaks oil. That isn't good. We need to change the head gasket. But don’t you worry. I will help you in the next few days. I have some free time coming and I know how to do it”- he promised confidently, and I agreed instantly. Misha never left anybody with a second choice. After all, he was working in the militia, somewhere far away in soviet Asia before. And, yes! He was in America the whole year already.
***
Lily's college class started at 10am. We left home early. I wanted to have a little extra time, for possible emergencies. After all, it was our car now and I wanted to be extra careful on our first day.
It wasn't very cold in the morning, but I started the car and let the engine warm up a bit. I walked around my precious possession.
In the daylight, my car looked even more beautiful than last night.
P-5
Its color was on the mustard side of yellow. That was a very popular color for cars in the 70s. But to me it was golden, after all, there was royalty in the name, Dodge Royal Monaco. 1974 model was the famous Bluesmobile featured in Blues Brothers classic American movie that came on a screen of the cinema when we arrived in the country. But we never went to the movies in the USA yet, and couldn't know that. I just liked the car for what it was and it was the music to my ears and the pleasure to my eyes. It was my beautiful royal chop-chop car.
I drove slowly. Everything around looked a little different. I couldn't understand why. It just was that way. The realization came later, much later when I understood the meaning of being independent. It is a very special feeling when you suddenly grasp that everything you have is your own, and you do not belong or are obligated to anybody. It was many years later that I read that our American forefathers wrote in the constitutional papers about "an inalienable right to unrestricted locomotion as a major part of the personal liberty".
That morning I experienced my personal liberty. I drove my own car. My wife was sitting next to me on a very large and comfortable chair. It was so plush and beautiful, that I couldn't even call it a car seat. And the music was awesome. For some reason, every radio station played only the Beatles that morning.
We drove under the pedestrian bridge and suddenly I noticed something disturbing. There was a man on the bridge waving the American flag. Over the rails he threw the huge white sheet with big red letters, "Jonny is dead".
"What was that?"- I wondered, but it was too swift and our new American car took us already too far from it.
***
"Something started to flash over there,” - Lily pointed to the car's dashboard.
"Do you know what it is?"- she asked.
I had no idea. There were a lot of different lights, indicators, and buttons on that dashboard but Misha didn't tell me about those yet.
" I will ask JD when we come to the college". - I replied.
JD was our friend. He, by his own admission, was a perpetual student.
"I'll be in the college for as long as they pay me to do it" - told JD when we got acquainted. He approached us by himself because he heard about us and was very happy to meet any Russians.
"Every Russian communist is a friend of mine. I am an American socialist and we all are brothers", - JD told me confidently.
P-6
He took me by the hand and we walked toward the street corner where one of his friends was selling watermelons from the back of the truck. He talked about me with the guy and then both started to shake my hands vigorously. They gave me a huge watermelon free of charge and told me that they were very happy to meet me. I have to admit, that I didn't know what to tell them.
I felt that if I’d expose myself as anything but a communist sympathizer, they would become offended and I would end up without new friends and without free watermelon. That would be a double loser, and I chose to keep my opinions to myself.
JD told me that he lives out of three different government subsidies and gets all his free food out of the two local churches. He knew how to work the system. He didn't even need to sit in a college class to receive his monthly stipend, but only to check himself in and out. Every week he pretended to break something in his body to have some additional charity. In the few weeks that I knew him, I've seen him with the cast on his arms or feet several times.
Usually while Lily was in class JD and I would be seating out on the porch smoking and having a meaningful conversation about life. I can promise you that I picked up more new words for my vocabulary from JD than Lily from her English as a second language college class.
"Contrary to the popular belief the socialism is alive and well in America", - JD explained to me.
" There are a lot of rich people who pay to the system to deliver to us, the poor. Our problems are, that the rich do not pay enough and the government doesn't control them as well as in your soviet union. For that we need a communist party," - he trustfully reveals to me.
I never replied to his sincere thankfulness. JD lived in his world. Mine was already a very different one. JD was using the system. I was using him as a source of new English words for my vocabulary. Everything was in balance...
***
When we enter the college parking lot I noticed JD on his usual spot right away. This time the cast was on his neck. His eyes were all red. He was in the tears.
"John is dead", - said JD, and I instantly understood what did I see driving under the pedestrian bridge before.
I wanted to know what has happened. But JD was too upset to tell me and my English was too limited to understand all of the details.
I got the main horrible thing, it was that last night the music died...
We sat on the college steps and smoke in silence.
"Life is so unfair..." - I thought.
"The God of my music has died on the night when my personal song just opened its tune."
It was the morning after the night of December, 8th.
***
As soon as Lily finished her class I asked JD to help me with my new car.
We went down to the parking lot and I proudly demonstrated my new possession. To my surprise, JD didn't like the car.
P-7
"It's a rich people car," - he said strongly. "We do not drive those," - he stressed. I was stunned, but I hid that.
I showed him the blinking red light and asked what that could be.
"Your car is out of gas."- JD giggled to me in response.
"Oh, my... How could I not realize that!"- I got really embarrassed and my face turned red.
Lily and I got inside our "new to us car" and looked in the mirrors. I checked the rearview and she checked herself. We got ready to drive.
"What JD told you about the light?" - Lily asked me.
" Oh, it's nothing. We just need to get some gas."- I replied.
" Do you know how to do that?" - Lily inquired.
" Are you kidding? How complicated can that be? Everything about cars is easy in America. Don't you know..." - I was laughing.
Lily asked me a good question, actually. The car we drove before, the loaner, was totally taken care of by the Jewish Family Services. Once a week somebody was taking that car for gas and bringing it back.
Now it was my car and my responsibility.
I’ve never been before at any gas stations neither in the soviet union nor in the US.
" How complicated could that be?"- I thought to myself. " Sure enough I will be able to do it."
We drove just a few blocks, crossed to the other side of the street and I parked by one of the pumps at the gas station. I did that just like all other people and I wasn't even questioning my doing.
"It would be a moment." - I told Lily and got out of the car. I looked around.
I was the only customer.
A few service guys were standing by the garage entrance.
"Do you need any help?"- inquired one of them.
"No help no. Self serwees. Sen'k Yu" - I replied.
I walked around the car and came closer to the pump.
To my astonishment, just like everything in America had a choice, gasoline for the cars had a choice as well. There was a choice of two.
One type of gas was 0.86 cents per gallon and another 0.72.
I certainly chose the cheapest one. Why waste any money on the car!
I read the instructions. It was easy. There was step by step pictures to follow.
I got the gas hose connection nozzle out and started to look for a gas tank door on the side of my car. To my surprise, it wasn't there.
Apparently, I parked on the wrong side of the car facing the pump.
I placed a gas hose handle back into the pump and drove around trying to face the pump with the driver's side that time.
Next, I parked and got the gas hose handle out for the second time.
P-8
" What is taking you so long?"- Lily asked me looking to the mirror and fixing her make-up.
" Oh, it's nothing. Don't you worry about it. It just was the wrong side of the car. Now it should be quick."- I smiled at her.
" Do you need any help?" - asked one of the service guys.
"No help no. Self serwees. Sen'k Yu" - I replied.
I held the gas hose connection nozzle in my hands and started to look for a gas tank door. To my surprise, it wasn't there either.
I put the gas hose handle back to the pump and started slowly walking around the car looking for the gas door. I couldn't see it anywhere.
" What is taking you so long?"- Lily asked me looking to the mirror.
" Oh, it's nothing." - I replied. " It would be a moment, dear..."
In reality, I started to panic. I understood that the car was drivable. Therefore it should have gas in it. The gas would be held in the tank. If there would be a gas tank, it should be a place to fill it with gas. I just couldn't find it! I opened the trunk and pulled up the carpet. There was nothing like a gas tank nozzle. I checked behind the rear seats, - nothing. I opened the hood. There were a lot of things I had only a general understanding of what those were for. None of those looked like a gas tank nozzle. I closed the hood in despair.
" Do you need any help?" - asked one of the service guys.
"No help no. Self serwees. Sen'k Yu" - I replied again.
I was always able to solve all of my problems by myself. This time I was failing. I bought a car without a gas tank nozzle! Misha told me that those shady guys, we purchased the car from, were assembling cars from the different parts. What if in a hurry, they covered the gas tank nozzle with a wrong fender part? And now I was doomed.
I spent all our money on that car without the gas-filling nozzle!
And now we only got less than $50 till my next payday, and no car to drive.
How am I going to explain myself?
Lily understood that something wrong did happen. She stopped flipping pages of the colorful magazine she picked at the college and watched me questionably with visible apprehension.
I understood, that I can't hide my failure any longer and decided to reveal my incompetence.
" Remember how I told you, that Misha took me to that chop-chop shop place to buy this car?" - I asked. " So, those shady guys apparently did something wrong... Very wrong... And I...
I wasn't ... I didn't... I..." - I was too upset with myself and couldn't continue. I was ready to cry!
"So, what did you do?" - Lily asked.
" I bought the car without the gas tank nozzle,"- I shout out as an admittance of my guilt.
P-9
“And now we can’t put gas in the car...” - I lowered my head and closed my eyes.
"You are wrong. It's impossible! You just don't know where to look." - Lily said very intelligibly. "Let us look together."- and she got out of the car.
Meanwhile, another car drove to the gas station. A lady came out of the driver's seat. She threw her scarf back over her shoulder, walked around the vehicle, and stopped at the back of the car taking with the service guys.
" Look at her," - said Lily. " ... and just follow everything she does. She is so elegant!"
I looked. Lady with the scarf bent toward the license plate. There was a small unnoticeable lever behind the plate. She pooled it down and there was a gas tank nozzle!
Oh my God! Hallelujah!
It was so simple and so genius! I instantly became ecstatic.
I became the happiest man on the earth again. I walked around my car. There was a hard-to-noticed lever at the side of the license plate. I pooled it down and there was the cap of the gas tank connector I was looking for! My problem was solved! It was my salvation!
I quickly came back to the pump, took the hose of the cheapest, the 0.72 cents per gallon gas to my hand, and walked toward the gas tank connection. I was smiling. All my troubles finally were over!
I twisted off the cap and pointed the nozzle tube toward the opening.
To my sudden despair, the opening in my car wasn't big enough to receive the gas tube. Oh, no ... I was doomed again.
I tried to play with the connection, but it didn't fit at all.
" See, now finally you are doing great," - said Lily smilingly. " You should off ask me how to do it from the beginning." She couldn't see me scorching behind the car.
I couldn't admit that I was failing again. I kept quiet.
I stepped down to my knees and faced the newly found gas tank connector.
With one hand pooling the license plate down, and another holding the hose handle I was desperately shooting some gas toward the tank opening. One gulp at the time.
The gas station attendants laughed and giggled openly. For them it was entertainment, for me it was the "L’ELAN VITAL", the last vital essence of my being! People around never saw anything like that, but I didn't care. I was on the mission to get the gas to the tank of my car, using any and all means possible. The sweat was running down my face even though it was December and it wasn't hot at all. My hands were all wet from spilled gas, so were my clothes and the pavement around my car.
Finally, I gulped some gas into the tank. I closed the cap and went to the office to pay.
"How much for gas"- I asked, wiping my face and trying to remove my hair from falling over my eyes.
The man behind the window couldn't stop laughing. - " The pump showed a single dollar, but man, I'm not gonna charge you anything" - he giggled. "Never seen anything like that... People should pay money to see it…"
P-10
"The gas was free of charge" - I said getting back to the car.
"You see, everything is ending for better" - Lily answered and added, "You stink."
“ I know, it’s just some gas I spilled accidentally.” - I said.
“ Accidentally.!?!”- she laughed - “ At least now you’re an expert and the problem is over.”
"It's not over yet. We need to see Misha now!" - I replied.
***
Misha was home already and he was in a very good mood.
"Hey, a four-month everything you know American. How is your Royal car?"- he smiled.
I told him everything that happened. Obviously, I tried to avoid as many embarrassing details as possible.
Misha listened to my story and started to laugh. He was laughing so hard that his cigarette fell down from his mouth and was hanging on the very edge of his shaking from laughter lip.
" Didn't I tell you before that you know nothing in America, " - he asked through laughter.
"They have two types of gas here. One is cheap and another expensive.
The cheap they call leaded. I heard it's no good for the people to breathe, but it's ok for the cars. Understand? The Americans are sneaky that way. They started to make cars with the smaller tank opening, so you can’t stick a gas pump nozzle into it. They thought that they got me. Right? Wrong!
I am smarter. I got all of that figured out. With me, you gonna be alright.
Look, I made a special device for this." - with those words Misha got something from the trunk of his car.
"Look, I invented this!" - he said proudly.
Misha held in his hands a self-made funnel made from the plastic Pepsi bottle and a piece of the garden hose. It was self-explanatory.
My problem was solved.
" Next we are going to change the head gasket, remember?" - Misha said smiling.
I left with no other choice but to agree.
"I am free tomorrow morning, " - Misha offered.
"The morning would be good... " - I said. My voice was trembling a little. I didn't know what to expect, but I was willing to learn.
The time has an amazing quality. It is always flowing forwards regardless of whoever you are and whenever you might be. As you are going through that you’re learning new ways and new things.
Yes, I was definitely was ready to learn about the gasket and I had a great teacher.
That what my next story will be about...
Dallas, TX March 2021
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