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尖沙咀總行 : 2569 2192
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沙田銀禧分行 : 2636 1380
太古城明宮分行 : 2560 3738
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萬里路萬卷書
My Undergraduate Years (7)
Bob Choi
2014年5月7日

 

     “Sura Nualpradid/FreeDigitalPhotos.net”

 

 

7. The “Joy Rider”

 

Even though Berea College offered full tuition scholarship to all her students, we still needed money for living expenses and for textbooks, so during summer “vacation”, we would work as much as we could, to save enough money for the following year’s expenses.  Technically, foreign students were not allowed to work off-campus, but we were able to obtain summer work permits because of Berea’s unique work-study program.  

My first summer job was at Cedar Point Amusement Park at Sandusky, Ohio.  The Park boasted the fastest rollercoaster in the US, a large array of different games and rides and was blessed with some fine beaches.  It opened only during the summer months (Sandusky was very cold and snowy in winter.)  It hired a large number of college students during the peak season, and housed them in special dormitories on park ground.  The recruiter from Cedar Point actually came to campus to screen the students from Berea because we had established a reputation of excellent work ethics.   I was one of the many whom they hired for the summer of 1972. 

It was destined to be a most adventurous summer starting from day one when I reported for duties.  Mr. Mason (the supervisor) and I talked a few minutes and then he looked through the duty chart…

“Do you drive, Bob?”

“Yes.”  I didn’t know why I lied.  I had probably touched the steering wheel a couple of times before when I rode in my friend’s car.

“Good.  We need a driver to pick up money from all the restaurants and food stalls at the park, several times each day.”  He probably read from my application that I had worked for a few months at a bank (Hongkong Shanghai Banking Corp.) before I came to the US.  He thought I would be good at counting money.

“But Mr. Mason – I haven’t really driven that much, I…”  I was about to tell him I had never driven a car before, and to apologize for my lie.

“It’s just a little scooter,” he interrupted.  “It’s got a 3-speed on the column.  You drive a manual shift, don’t you?”  (Manual shift!!  I don’t even drive automatic!!) 

“Yeah…”  What the heck!  I supposed I could always learn on the job.  It’s just a scooter.  How difficult could it be?

“Alright Bob, follow me to the parking lot.”

My heart went “pita…pita…” as I followed him to the parking lot.  I was scared.

“There it’s!”  He pointed to a small, four-wheel truck with open deck and bed, the kind that people used to haul small loads around.  It’s cute.  I could picture myself riding on this little open truck, feeling the wind on my face.  I was not scared any more.

“Let me show you how the gears work,” he got on the driver’s seat and started moving the shift lever mounted on the steering column.  “Up and push out…this is reverse…pull in…this is first gear…down and push out for second gear…pull in…now you’re in third…simple, isn’t it?”  (It would be simple if I knew what he was talking about!)

“Can you start tomorrow?”

“OK, Mr. Mason.”  The excitement of being able to drive around in this scooter had totally eclipsed my fear of not even knowing which of the three pedals was for the clutch!

I might be crazy but I was not stupid.  I knew I would need some help with this scooter.  Louis (my Berea buddy who was also hired by the Park) knew how to drive a manual.  So the following morning, inconspicuously, Louis gave me on-the-spot driving lessons with the scooter.  Fortunately, it has a tiny engine and a light clutch that is very forgiving.  Still I managed to kill the engine several times because I released the clutch too fast.  It also made terrible grinding noise when I tried to shift the gears. 

With some practice, however, I had totally overcome these technical difficulties and was soon driving around the park in the scooter as if I had been doing that all my life.  My route was within the exclusive grounds of the park, so there was no traffic to worry about.  It was a thoroughly enjoyable experience…what a job!  This “joyride” lasted for about two months until one day an accident happened…

On that fateful morning when I walked to the parking lot, I couldn’t find my scooter, so I walked to Mr. Mason’s office.

“Mr. Mason, where’s the scooter?  It’s not in the parking lot.”

“Bob, it went into the shop last night.”

“Is something wrong with it?” 

“No, it was due for a regular inspection.  They found the clutch plate was worn and needed to be replaced.  It will be ready by tomorrow.  You can drive the Ford truck today.” 

“You mean the big, white Ford truck in the parking lot?”

“Yeah, that’s the one!”

“But Mr. Mason – that’s a BIG truck!” 

“Bob, it’s got the same gear shift as the scooter.  You can handle that, can’t you?”

“Well…”  I replied reluctantly.  Oh, how I missed my little scooter!

“You can get the key from Jean,” he said.  Jean was his secretary.

I walked to the truck and climbed onto the driver’s seat.  It looked even bigger inside than on the outside.  I had to move the seat all the way forward so I could press down on the clutch…and it was a very heavy clutch!  I spent a minute or two to get myself familiarized with the gears.  It had the same gear shift as the scooter…a good sign!   With the gear in neutral, I turned on the ignition.  It had a very powerful engine that emitted a low but ominous hum...“Ra…Ra…Ra” (Oh, how I missed my little scooter!)  Pressing hard on the clutch with my left foot, I moved the lever to first gear (what I thought to be the first gear), pushed down slightly on the gas pedal while at the same time slowly released the clutch.  It was a heavy clutch and my leg started to wobble a bit.  I felt the truck trying to move, but couldn’t.  I gave it a bit more gas until I could hear the motor racing and I released the clutch.

The truck jerked forward violently, heading towards a tree on the left.  It happened so suddenly, I didn’t know how to react.  By the time I pushed hard on the brakes with my both feet (and thus killed the engine), the truck barely missed the tree.  I heard a loud crashing noise as the rear-view mirror that was mounted on the door was smashed by the tree.  (It turned out I had put the truck in third gear inadvertently when I released the clutch!)

I climbed down from the truck, both legs shaking.  Mr. Mason and Jean must have heard the noise and came out to investigate.  Naturally, they were a little upset by what they saw…it was a fairly new truck!

“Well, we’re covered by insurance,” Mr. Mason was the first one to speak. “Jean will have to file a claim.  She will need you driver’s license, Bob.”  (Driver’s license!! These two words rang off in my head like a fire alarm!!)

“I don’t have my driver’s license, Mr. Mason!”  I blurted.

“What do you mean?”

“I…I left it at school…I forgot to bring it with me when I left campus.”  Another lie.

“Hmm…it’s OK.  I can file the claim in your name, and the insurance company can look up your driver license from the licensing bureau,” Jean said.

“Ah…I’m not sure, Jean…ah…I got my driver license in Hong Kong.  I don’t think the bureau here has my record…” (Of course not!  I didn’t have a HK driver’s license either!)

I looked at Mr. Mason as I was trying to pull off another lie.  He was staring at me steely-eyed.  I had known Mr. Mason for over a month now and I found him to be very friendly.  He could be firm at times, but he was always fair with me.  I couldn’t tell another lie…

“I need to tell you something, Mr. Mason.”  I shot a quick glance at Jean.  She seemed to know what’s on my mind because took a few steps away. 

“I lied to you, Mr. Mason…I don’t have a driver’s license.  I’m sorry.”  I spoke as softly as I could, all the while starring at my own feet.  I heard Mr. Mason took a deep breath and let it out.

“Bob, I too had got behind the wheels a few times before I got my license.  This is what boys do.  But you took a job as a driver…you could get us into a real pickle…do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Mason…I’ll pay for the damages, but please don’t fire me!”

“No, I’m not going to fire you.  Summer will be over in a few weeks.  But you’re grounded from now on.  Go talk to Jean in a few minutes.  She will have the new assignment for you.”  He and Jean walked back to the office, leaving me in the parking lot, feeling truly sorry about myself, and yet enjoying a sense of relief that’s hard to describe.

I was assigned to desk duties helping Jean with some book-keeping.  Mr. Mason didn’t take anything from my pay.  He knew Berea students were all poor and would need all the money we could save.  The truck was repaired promptly.  I didn’t know if Jean filed an insurance claims or not, and I knew I shouldn’t ask.  Someone else was assigned to the scooter.  So my joy ride had come to an end.  For the rest of the summer, I was working as Jean’s helper.  I shouldn’t complain.  The work was easy, and (I forgot to mention earlier) Jean was tall and pretty with red hair and we got along fine.

If Mr. Mason was angry at me, he surely didn’t hold a grudge, for I was hired by the park again the following summer…but that’s another story.

 

- To be continued -

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