Cars and Girls: My First Car

Cars and Girls: My First Car

I didn’t realize it in high school but my family had Mafia connections. One of the reasons the immediate family left Brooklyn was to get away from the bad guys. My grandfather’s cousin was Vincent Mangano, a major contributor to Murder Incorporated. Vincent and his brother Phillip were really bad guys. I didn’t know what this had to do with my first car until years later. Being Italian-American, my family was sensitive to stereotyping Italians with the Mafia. They wanted no one to think we were “connected.” My parents, first generation Americans, wanted me and my sisters to be 100% American. We were not even taught to speak Italian at home, although both parents spoke in Italian around my grandparents or when they didn’t want us to know what they were talking about. Little did they know, we knew what they were talking about, especially if it had to do with where my mom had hidden the Cucidata cookies she and grandma had worked so hard to make for the holidays. I ate them like peanuts.

With that background in mind, you may understand my father’s reaction to my first car. I only had this car for 24 hours. I bought it with my own money and was so pound of it. I loved it. I love it today. I bought it from a friend for $35.00. Seriously. I really wish I had this car today.

It was a 1939 Hupmobile. It had bullet headlights, and a humped trunk. The black paint was a little crazed but was in really good condition. Inside, the mohair seats were worn but had no tears. Running boards graced the body on either side of the car and a large chrome grill was the main feature in front. A perfect Mafia car. You could imagine gangsters standing on the running boards firing their Tommy guns at the FBI. One of my high school friends had this car on his farm. It ran fine and drove fine as far as I was concerned and after I gave it a test drive, I paid him the $35.00 and drove it home and parked it in the driveway.

When my father got home from work that night he went berserk. “What the hell is that car doing In the driveway?” I said I bought it from a friend at school. “Take it back, I don’t want a damn Mafia car around here. Do you understand? Get it out of here.” “But dad, it’s paid for, I can’t take it back.”

“Did you hear what I said, I don’t want any Mafia cars around here. Get it out of here.”

And that was it. Sadly I drove it back to my friend’s farm, never to see it again. The shortest time I owned a car. (To be continued.)