I recommend that when I’m in the zone of making a score, you don’t try to get in my way.
It doesn’t really matter if you do try to talk to me, I’ll ignore you. Something comes over me when I’m at an estate sale, and everybody is looking around to find those items that has value and that they are trying to get before I do. It is an amazing rush to find that item over someone else, after they have been through an area and did not pick up that item that is selling for ten bucks and can go for a hundred.
But I am not here tonight to tell you about such matters as a mere hundred bucks, but of one of many stories, where I endangered my life in order to make the score go through. In the past, I have told you about dealing with crackheads and gunplay in “The Bronx Deal, ” tonight it is not as serious, yet if some circumstances were different and the Police caught me at the moment that Spanish Eddie was using a crow bar in order to get into his “girlfriends” apartment in order to shoot the heroin he just bought… well, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Sonny called me and told me that he had a large record collection that he was putting out at the flea market, and that I should get there before the guy with the wig got there.
In the morning, my car putzed out and so I went down to Manny’s to see if anybody had a Van to drive me to Queens, the flea market and to get to the records before the guy with the wig got to them first.
“Yeah, Spanish Eddie got that car, he can drive you.”
I got in the car with Spanish Eddie and noticed all the broken glass on the ground of the passenger side,” Somebody bust into your car last night?”
“No, I busted into it when I stole it.”
I did not demand to get to get out of the car.
Spanish Eddie said,”I gotta get an advance, I’m hungry.”
“I gotta get to these records.”
“We’re not getting there unless I put gas in the car.”
Instead of going to the gas station, we drove towards Bushwick and Spanish Eddie scored dope.
“O.K. you got your dope, now let’s get to the flea market before the wig man get there.”
“I gotta put the gas in the tank,” Spanish Eddie told me…
We drove down the block where he stole the car, in order to get to his girlfriends apartment, in order to shoot the dope. When she didn’t answer, he got a crow bar out of the trunk and was walking up the steps to break in when two Police Officers rounded the corner and towards us.
I did not think about being arrested. I was not worried about being in a stolen car, on the same block that the dude who owned it lived. I was not concerned that the driver was a Junkie who was holding Heroinand that he had a criminal record and that he had a crowbar in his hands. All I was concerned about was getting to those records before Wig Man got them.
Somehow, the Cops were oblivious to the criminality ooze in which Spanish Eddie gave off. He looked at the Cops and walked right up to the outside door of the six family apartment house and opened the door with his crowbar. I stood there calmly and watched. I just wanted him to get high and get going.
Finally, we got going and we got to the flea market and I got there around the same time as Wig Man. In fact, it was a windy day and wig man’s wig flipped off and I split the score with Wigman… We went through about a hundred crates and we each ended up with five crates.
Spanish Eddie drove me back to Ridgewood and that was that…
A couple of days later, I saw Spanish Eddie filling up that car with dirt. He got a job to dig out a basement, and instead of getting a dumpster, he used the car.
After he used the car as a dumpster, he left it a few blocks away.
I asked him about that. I said,”Why didn’t you drive the car far away? The owner is going to find his car, or the cops are gonna put two and two together and they’ve seen you with this car a couple of times, and it’s not like you were hidden when you were filling the car with dirt. You were right on the main drag where Cop cars are passing all day long.”
Spanish Eddie said,”Yeah, I thought about that but I didn’t want to have to move the car far away because then I was going to have to find a way back here and I didn’t want the hassle.”
I always come back to one main thing about this story, not about how foolish I was. No. I come back to the story and wonder what it was like for the owner of the car to get the call from the Cops that said they had found the car and that it was just a couple of blocks around from his house… but that every inch of the car and trunk was filled with dirt.