I titled this one “The Empty Car.” It’s a relatively straightforward reflection on my life as a kid, on the streets of Long Beach, left to wander on my own for hour after hour, walking by car lot after car lot. My mother would drop me off downtown and then go somewhere, I don’t know where. From there, I’d walk back to my grandparent’s house, miles away. How they let this happen, I still don’t understand. Other times, I’d ride in her car when she was drunk and be terrified by her swerving and inability to steer, brake and manage the massive Mercury or Pontiac. Otherwise, I was fixated on my father’s cars that he was so proud of, being a traveling salesman. He would come and visit and take me to Disneyland and then otherwise ignore my mother’s pleas for child support. LINKED HERE is the story.
