It’s ironic, I think, that I have spent my adult life always looking for a bargain, trying to save money, not only for myself, but for my friends.
(The ironic part is how, at almost 75, I don’t have any. My sister just quit smoking, and I heard my wife telling her how much money she was going to save. I quit smoking on Nov. 29, 1989, and right now I’d have to go look under my truck seats trying to find enough change to buy a lighter.)
Anyway, I have a good friend who has a really nice import automobile, one of those German-made things that they might ship just a few at a time so they will cost more, be harder to find, and repair or replacement parts are almost always way out of sight.
My friend was in New Orleans recently, riding along (in style) when taxi decided to change lanes. Problem was, this luxury import was already in that lane. The cab’s right front fender dented the driver’s door of the import ‘just a little bit’ which is a lot like being just a little bit pregnant.
So, in the middle of the night not long ago, I was surfing the net and found a company in Inman who was parting out the exact same automobile as my friend’s.
It was going to save a him lot of money, so we made plans to make the trip.
The deal was, the guy parting out the car was going to perform a “turnkey” job. Not only was he selling the door, but he was going to take off the dented door, make all of the electronic changes, and have us moving again in only four hours
And arrangements for every trip involves at last one meal. Since we were starting in Greenvillle, and ending up in Inman, the town of Spartanburg figured heavily in our plans. The first two places we had planned to have breakfast were closed for the holiday, we had the bright idea to head to the Peach Blossom Restaurant, in
Spartanburg, where NASCAR greats David Pearson and Bud Moore have been regular patrons for decades.
We went in and sat down. Right there, on the walls, were huge tributes to both men.
Bud Moore was a war hero, and one of the finest car owners in NASCAR history. And any time you mention Spartanburg to a race fan, the first thing they want to talk about is David Pearson.
So, when the waitress approached, my friend asked, “Has Mr. David been in here recently?” We got the deer in the headlights look.
This woman, this grown woman who is employed in the very place that is known far and wide as the favorite food stops for these racers, honestly did not recognize David Pearson’s name.
She did say, “Some time ago, there used to be an old man come in to eat that everyone called Mr. Bud, but he doesn’t come here anymore. But I don’t know about that other person.”
It didn’t ruin our breakfast, but it sure did make a dent in it.
Since we already had our day ruined and it wasn’t even 8 o’clock, we headed on toward Inman. And when we got there, we were met by a fellow with an accent.
I don’t mean an accent like South Georgia or Texas, I mean an accent like a family that might own a camel or have a front yard containing thousands of truckloads of sand, as far as the eye can see.
We were there on time. The other guy wasn’t. He called to say he’d be twenty minutes late. Then, twenty minutes later he called to say he’s be another ten. Then he arrived, and the four-hour door switching plan had already gone over the hill.
The place was full of tractor-trailer tractors, box trucks, and luxury automobiles. We deferred the swap, saying we had to get back to Greenville. Then we headed back home, making plans for someone to go get the door he promised to have off, and being sad that someone who actually lives in Spartanburg did not know two of the most famous residents the town has ever had.
We ended up deciding, hoping, that waitress had just gotten off the bus from one of the north Atlantic states.
And one thing I have wondered, worried, about since I got home.
If not knowing who David Pearson or Bud Moore are is a sin?