Ode to the Geezer

Almost exactly five years and eleven months ago, I was gifted with my late great uncle's 1995 Chevy S10 pickup. The S10, a front-wheel drive manual with a camper shell, was a quintessential "old man" truck and I took to calling it "the Green Geezer" in reference to its leafy-teal paint job.

Though I would have only been nine at the time, I fancy that I can recall when my uncle first brought it home. Brand new vehicles were an uncommon reality in my childhood and I remember fanticizing about driving it. There's no doubt that the Geezer had lost some of his swagger in the intervening years (and picked up the distinctive smell of cat), but I was about as thrilled as I could be when ownership of the truck was transfered to me. I had never driven a manual before and I still remember the difficulty that I had in calculating the downshift involved in making turns. I did get the hang of it eventually and the Green Geezer and I had some memorable adventures in the ensuing years. Now, as a rusted, sagging frame has prompted me to set the Geezer out to pasture in favor of a more reliable set of wheels, I'd like to reflect briefly on a single anecdote that illustrates the Geezer's penchant for a good time.

A buddy and I were driving home from Dayton, Ohio late one night following a mutual friend's wedding. The sun was already hours into its vespertine slumber and the the unilluminated reaches of I-70 stretched endlessly into a shadowy abyss. We were calmly chatting about how disappointing the reception's buffet had been when all of a sudden the Geezer's headlamps began to flicker. Our conversation paused as my buddy shot me a look that seemed to ask, "Should I be scared?" I shrugged my shoulders and breathed a small chuckle as if to say, "It's probably fine, what's the worst that could happen?" Our discussion resumed and we continued on a few miles without incident. We were back to chatting happily away when the lights began to flicker again and then went out entirely, plunging us into an uninterupted, inky blackness save for the few red dots of distant tail lights.

"Don't freak out; it's done this before. All you have to do is flip the switch off and on again." With a easy gesture that belied my growing terror, I toggled the Geezer's light switch back and forth and, sure enough, the head lamps flared back to life. My buddy shot me the betrayed look of someone who had been dragged into a dangerous situation under false pretenses. I tried to lighten the mood by revisiting the topic of the underwhelming buffet, but my efforts were undercut as the lamps died again and the road before us faded to black. I quickly flipped the switch again and again the lamps deined to light our way, only to give out just seconds later. Desperate, I mashed the light switch with the palm of my hand, and was rewarded with about forty more seconds of illumination.

As fortune would have it, we were not that far from out intended exit and I'll admit that I felt some relief to trade the interstate for a little country road. I was still deliberately mashing the light switch every thirty seconds or so, and the turning off and on of the Geezer's headlights seemd to catch the attention of a small sedan just a few hundred yards ahead of us. The sedan slowed its pace and eased to the side of the road. Instinctively, I blew right by them. "Uh. Don't we know them?" my buddy asked. Without even looking back, I knew that he was right. The little maroon Ford Focus was indeed full of our friends who had also been guests at the wedding. Without a moment's hesitation, my buddy was on his phone.

"Hey, that was us and our head lights are failing. Will you drive in front of us and be our head lights for the rest of the way?"

"That's you guys?"

"Yes."

"We thought you were just some jackass!"

-Ryan