The History Of Garbology -Two American Heroes

Published March 26, 2010 by Larry Fisher

..I went to Jersey in anticipation of buying my largest record collection in some time. Instead, it ended up being six crates and about 400 records, not 20,000 records.

I went to Jersey today in anticipation of eating in the Korean part of Fort Lee. Instead, the belt on the transmission snapped and we raced to get to my Vietnamese mechanic back in Brooklyn.

We’ll start from the beginning: We drove through Jersey and I could hear the Sopranos opening begin in my head. That color sky… where else in the world is that color that color but in Jersey…What the hell is that color. It looms and looks like metal…

George is waiting for us at the storage facility. He is a 58 year old who just got out of the hospital and is about to get laid off from his Iron Worker Union job…

But wait there’s more. He worked down in lower Manhattan after 9-11 as an Iron Worker.

There’s still toxins in his lungs , that’s why a few months ago he fell into a coma after water seeped into his lungs… He was pronounced dead.

It was Memorial Weekend and his family was away, so the hospital wanted to take him off life support if he didn’t have health insurance. Finally, they got a hold of someone who said,”Yes, keep him alive for the weekend, why don’t you!”

He came too in the hospital and lay there thinking about how lucky he was. Yes, he lost his house during the sub prime mortgage rate debacle. Yes, he was sleeping in his Dodge Ram 1998… (I asked him if he wanted to trade for my Dodge Ram 1990 and cash. He said, he was used to sleeping in his 98.)

Yes, he had water in his lungs and lord knows what else but he was not down. He was an upbeat guy who just had the best gig of his life last weekend. He played with Young Jessie, an old blues player and George said,”they actually paid me!”

The guy had every fucking thing possible go wrong the last years and he was not down, he was totally upbeat. He just couldn’t give an accurate count about his records.

The belt on the transmission broke in Jersey today. I felt like I was stranded on Devil’s Island. I have nothing against Jersey, I just don’t know my way around it. and that sky is so Toxic Avenger.

We hustled over the two bridges in an attempt to make it to my great Vietnamese Mechanic named Young Wing back in Brooklyn. We hoped it wouldn’t conk out and stop on the BQE. That would be bad

Young Wing fixes my vehicle with magic dust. He just sprinkles that magic dust on my vehicle comes back together… He reminds me of Yoda…He never touches the vehicle when I’m there.

The best is whenever he finishes fixing my Dodge Ram 1990 and calls me and says,”Your shit is done.”

What A Day


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