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The Fall
a true story
The Fall
Damn if I can’t remember that guy’s name. It bothers me that I think I never even asked him. Interesting guy, though, him and his pretty girlfriend. In my mind he is a picture from a Dylan album cover, maybe 1964. This sort of a lost look, and his motorcycle. I picture him, Bob Dylan and the motorcycle. What bothered me at the time was my wife and I lived in this six-story condo with a carport underneath, His girlfriend parked her car next to ours, and he parked the motorcycle in between. It leaked oil. My worry was that it would fall over and scratch my used 4-cylinder Ford Mustang. That car never worked well and wasn’t new but I worried about his motorcycle falling over against the damn car. Stupid. They lived directly downstairs from us; I think we were 503 and they were 403. There was one floor above us, then the roof.
Those two were a pair, although, God knows most couples are different and I do know that some people wondered what the hell my wife saw in me. She was so organized and directed, and I was so, un-. In spite of that, with my wife’s help and maybe if there is a Great Spirit, I had studied medicine and was in a Pediatric Residency program in Chicago. She was finishing her Master’s in Library Science at a place called Rosary College; now Dominican University. She was the driving force in my life. This was the early 80’s and I say “was” because…
