A Good Day, part one
A surveillance camera watches my dad take a break from pushing the cart. Molly is camera-shy, but her shadow made it into the photo (far right).
Today I took final receipt of the cart. Andy had a lot of last things to say about it, and about life in general. Molly says Andy likes me. I find it too wonderful to believe totally.
He showed me the instructions he had taped to the inside of the propane and battery panels ("My English is not the best," he said, "but I think they're OK"). I noticed the suspension he had built for the rear wheels ("For downward force. In my country I work on buildings, design foundation. Now I do this!" he said, laughing). I tried the work light ("Not car battery, moline battery! Moline battery, like on boat. Car battery not last. Moline battery last a long time!"). He showed me how to unclog the grill burners with a needle. The grill is beautiful, with real rocks to diffuse the flames! He showed me again the on and off positions for the gas valves ("Be careful! It will blow you up! I serious!").
There are too many things to list. From top to bottom he did a beautiful job, attended to every detail. And, after every part he told me about, the same command: "Come back if you have problem with it."
"I like to work on special carts," he said when we were finished, "carts that are different. This is not a good business for me. A lot of people want a cart that cost three hundred, four hundred dollars less. I have to cut out here and here," and he made scooping slashes at the heart of the vehicle.
Later, in his office, my father wrote him the last check, and Andy had some final advice: "When you have problems, you have to think about how solve them. You young, you gonna have a lot of problems -- maybe you get ticket from health department, ticket from the police. A lot of headaches. Some people say there are too many headaches, but what are you going to do? I have headaches but what can I do, close the shop? I think there are no more headaches maybe only when you are in a coffin. You solve the problems."
"And if you smell a lot of gas, don't light barbecue grill."
After initial reluctance ("these clothes ugly!"), Andy poses with my father in front of the cart
Then we were out on the street, me, molly, and neil. and the cart. He and moll tucked their iced coffees into the sink, but I had already finished mine while we were in the office. We were glad we hadn't had to push the cart yesterday, because we were going to push the cart 80 blocks.
[that last paragraph reads like a 5th-grade report. I realize that now, looking back on it. But maybe this day can only be described from afar, and with strange tools. How can I say suavely the unknown we venture into, how smoothly communicate the silver explosion that is me+pushcart? so what if my foal-legs buckle, in word as they do in deed. I say lead the way!]
So we went down the west side (andy's is between 10th and 11th aves). after the coffees were finished we drank lemon-lime gatorade. My dad got all ramped up and giddy and made us jog with the cart for a while. I waved at a few food-cart vendors we passed. Molly, her skin got all flushed and pretty. then we got water and more gatorade.
[We plucked our way around the outer edge of the island. We dived into her into the her bulk. We are lodged there and we rest, prepared to awake in her ancestral heart.]
We were headed to chinatown, to close a deal with the mysterious Mr. Yee.
//cut// more to follow...
Posted by Sam at June 28, 2003 11:37 PM
