John F. Myslinski | “The Audi, the Carphone, and the Ferry”
John F. Myslinski
“It was October 1984, and I had just purchased my first Audi—the first of many. I loved that Audi. But the 1984 Audis had many complaints that, for no reason, they would unexpectedly speed out of control. So many of my friends told me not to purchase this particular Audi. But I was not persuaded. This Audi had a distinct style, very different from the Audis of today. It was more boxy, but I think it had sharper, sleeker lines that we don’t see in the Audi today. I loved that car! Of course, it was black, as all my Audis have been.
As I said, it was my first Audi, and it was a used Audi. I got a great deal—at least I thought so—and I could easily justify owning what I considered an "understated" luxury car. It has only been in the past few years that, I think, the Audi has become less of an "understated car" and more of a coveted luxury car.
October is the month that I usually took vacation. I love the fall, the cool days, the brisk evenings, and the beginning of the holiday season in November. So, it was time to plan a vacation. I called Fr. Pat Reynolds in Kentucky, and we decided that a car trip up the coast to Nova Scotia would be fun, and this would be a great time of year to do it. Also, October is the month of my birthday. I’ve been told that I seem to be a difficult person to buy something for. I don’t think so. I have received some beautiful gifts that I cherish to this day. But that year, I received a most unusual and almost magical gift.
Remember, it was 1984… No cell phones. But there were those very large, bulky, inconvenient cellular phones that were the size of a suitcase. And that year, a very small "elite" group of individuals with plenty of money could have one of these bulky phones installed in their cars. It was almost unbelievable to think that you could make a call from your car anywhere in the world. And for my birthday that year, two of my best friends, Helen and Dickie Johnson, had one installed in my second-hand but "new to me" Audi.
There was just one place in Annapolis that installed these phones. I spent most of the day in Annapolis while my very own phone was being installed in my car! I couldn’t believe it! Of course, as I drove back to Washington, I called everybody I knew with the question, "Do you know where I’m calling you from?" And I yelled back, "FROM MY CAR!" I loved it… I have to be honest, I also loved being "one of the special few." I couldn’t believe I was actually making phone calls from inside my car.
The enthusiasm and excitement for a trip to Nova Scotia was only heightened by the awareness that we could make calls on the phone all the way up the coast to Canada. I think Fr. Pat was even more excited and astonished than I was. Now, let me explain something that you may be unaware of. I am very particular about clothes in general, but shirts in particular. In those days, I wore a lot of button Oxfords in various colors—white, blue, yellow, pink—almost every color I could find. And, of course, they had to be perfectly laundered and even more perfectly pressed and folded so that I could place each one very carefully on the backseat of my Audi. Four piles of five shirts! From Washington to Boston, from Boston to Portland, and from Portland to Nova Scotia. Those shirts were handled like newborn babies! I think Fr. Pat was sick of hearing, "Be careful of those shirts!"
Finally, with all the shirts in tow, we made it to Saint John’s in New Brunswick. From there, we would take the ferry across to Nova Scotia. We were the first car to arrive early in the morning that day.
Father Pat had been making calls from the car all the way up the coast. When we got to the ferry landing, I decided to get something to eat and coffee for the two of us. It took me about half an hour to walk to and from the food stand. As I was approaching the car, I noticed Pat was sitting outside of the car in a folding chair and talking on the phone. It was obvious the car wasn’t running while he was talking on the phone. I told him he better hang up because we didn’t want to run down the battery with the car being turned off. Reluctantly, he hung up and quickly refocused his attention on the coffee and egg sandwich I bought for him.
A couple of hours passed, and it was time to get on the ferry. We were first in a line of about 25 cars. When they made the announcement to start our cars and board the ferry, the Audi wouldn’t start. No one in line could get by us, and so the swearing and yelling began. Finally, one of the workers at the ferry came over with a set of jumper cables. He told us to open the hood so he could get at the battery. And to everybody’s surprise, there was no battery under the hood of the car. Screaming and cursing, they asked us where the hell the battery was. Of course, I didn’t know, and neither did Pat.
We looked everywhere—the trunk, once again under the hood, even under the car—and we couldn’t find the damn battery. Cars were tooting their horns… The ferry was now running half an hour late. Finally, a call (not from the car) was made to an Audi dealership. We were informed that the damn battery was located under the backseat, where four stacks of perfectly pressed shirts covered the entire seat.
The "crowd" was getting louder and louder, and so Fr. Pat and I started randomly throwing out all those shirts from the backseat. Finally, we located the battery, got the car started, pulled out of the line, and let all the cars get ahead of us onto the ferry. Almost without exception, middle fingers were being wagged in the wind with the expected four-letter words hurled in our direction.
Needless to say, the nearly two-hour ride was not pleasant. We looked forward to getting off that damn ferry and away from all those angry people. I assured Pat that once we got off the ferry and onto the island, we would have a peaceful and quiet week touring Nova Scotia. That was not to happen. Everywhere we went—restaurants, parks, etc.—we ran into those angry people that were on the ferry, and every time we did, the finger was once again aimed at us, wishing us to Hell and eternal damnation.
And you may want to ask, "What about my shirts?" Please don’t!
And, of course, when the week was over, we took the ferry off the island with most of those angry people who ferried on with us. It wasn’t until we were in Portland, Maine, that we finally felt "safe" from the mob. Of course, we continued to ostentatiously use our "car phone" with a renewed and newly found enthusiasm as we made our way back to DC in the beautiful and very classy black Audi!”