I found it alternately creepy, heartbreaking, and fun to spend a few hours with my family sorting through my late uncle’s posessions. My grandmother, a firm believer in waste-not-want-not, was very concerned that his belongings be put to use. The automotive memorabilia has gone to the race team members and auto clubs, and the dog memorabilia has gone to the Bull Terrier groups. Most of the rest is probably Goodwill-bound, sadly. The puppies have been adopted, and Grandma is keeping the remaining two adult dogs, “Action” Jackson and Blondie, although they’re a bit too much for her– they have to be walked separately since we won’t risk them fighting, and that makes eight walks a day with stubborn, muscular dogs. His rifle went to the farm manager’s eldest boy, who’ll probably return the favor with gifts of venison next season.
We tried on some of the clothes, of course, but he was much, much taller than the rest of us. Nonetheless, my brother and father found a couple pairs of nice pants that they’ll have hemmed (Grandma: “I bought him these twenty years ago and he never wore them!” Dad: “And now they’re back in style!”), and my brother’s the proud owner of a new wide-lapelled suit from the 70s. I got a couple of old pit-crew jackets.. If the rest of the stuff hadn’t been three sizes too large, I’d be able to head over to the Model Cafe in Allston and hang with the indie-rockers in a proper costume, down to someone else’s name embroidered on the chest. At first I thought I’d feel awkward wearing his clothes, especially doing it in a semi-ironic fashion. But he was always one to appreciate utility and irony, so I think he’d get a kick out of it. Besides, the collars are short, perfect for motorcycling, once the weather warms up a little.
Later we took both his cars out for exercise. Fabulous, although I have to say that as someone who’s a little unsteady with a manual clutch, it was a rather harrowing experience at every stop sign. Not cars to learn shifting on. We’ll have to sell them– it makes no sense for anyone but a serious enthusiast to own these vehicles, and neither my brother nor I would even have a place to store them– you can’t keep a beast like that outside, not in Boston or DC. Anyway, if you’re interested in a heavily customized M3 sedan or Mini Cooper S, drop me a line. Classy, race-style customizations, mind you. No hydraulics, ground-effects, or subwoofers.
Odd weekend, I’ll tell you that much. Odd weekend.
Secretly Ironic 