ASK ME ANYTHING by TOM NEUHOFF

Question: I have been in a nostalgic cloud ever since Monday, Oct. 28 when I read Devin Heilman’s article, “The key still fits.” Craig Nicol’s love for his regal red 1966 Chevy Corvair Sprint convertible reminded me of my first car; a sky blue 1964 Studebaker Daytona station wagon. Although I’m 63 now, I vividly remember every square inch of that car. It had a sliding rear top so you could haul a fridge, Christmas tree or drunk friend. Like Craig, I was in high school and that car made me a celebrity. It also made me a man. The reason I took this long to write you about this article is because my wife doesn’t know just how popular that Studebaker made me. I was no athlete and not much for looks. I can’t think of any other reason why that cheerleader would spend time in the back of a Studebaker with me. Maybe it was the 259 V 8 under the hood? I sure didn’t have much under my hood. I was such an idiot and knew absolutely nothing about the world. Do you know how I could find out where that Studebaker is now? While you’re at it, and more importantly, what are the chances you could find that cheerleader for me? I might be old but I’m not dead. I typed her name into the Search box at Facebook but got an Armenian woman with a mustache. Just don’t tell my wife about my good times in that station wagon. They don’t make station wagons anymore so my wife doesn’t understand why I won’t part with our SUV. Not a Studebaker but the closest I could find. Never give up hope, right? I would post my name but my wife knows where all the steak knives are. – Anonymous

Answer: I know exactly how you feel about the steak knives. My wife watched the “Open Chainsaw Sculpture Competition” in Eau Claire, Wisconsin last year and ran out to buy the biggest chainsaw she could find. She hasn’t done much art work but you should see the look on her face when she lubricates that chainsaw. I know she is sending me a message. That’s my problem, not yours. As to your dreams of reuniting with the cheerleader from years past, my feeling is you should be satisfied with just the memory of your adolescent adventure in the back of that Studebaker. Cherish every moment with your wife. I’m not just saying that because my wife reads my column. Also I probably should tell you your wife bought a nail gun last week.

Question: Two years ago my wife and I escaped from Portland (sold our home of 30+ years) and moved to Post Falls. For the first couple of weeks we thought we were in some kind of fantasy land; could the people really be that friendly? That accommodating? Could drivers really show courtesy like we were witnessing? Well, the answer, after two years seems to be resounding ‘Yes,’ and we are glad we came.

It’s too bad that northern Idaho (AKA: Redneck North) and far eastern Washington (excluding most of downtown Spokane) could not teach the rest of the world a lesson. Life would be so much better. Don’t you think? - Mike N.

Answer: I agree with you completely, Mike. One of my 400 day jobs here in L.A. was as an ambulance driver for Schaefer’s Ambulance Company in 1976. If you think drivers are rude, try driving an ambulance with people refusing to pull over. Often if they would pull over, for some reason just as I was approaching their car they would suddenly pull out in front of me. Lately it seems I find more people driving like Charlie Manson on a bad day. (I don’t know if he ever had a good day.)

Here’s a Marilyn Monroe anecdote only the ambulance drivers at Schaefer’s Ambulance Company know about. Last year at the V.A. Hospital I ran across a couple of young Schaefer’s drivers who still tell this story, word for word. Is it true? Who knows? The story goes that Schaefer’s was called out to Marilyn Monroe’s home in Brentwood, California on Aug. 5, 1962. She was alive so they put her in the back of their Cadillac ambulance and headed to the nearest hospital. The dispatcher contacted them and ordered they take her back home. Three hours later they were called back to Marilyn’s home where she was pronounced dead from on overdose. IF, and I stress IF, this is true you have two questions to ponder; did the studios that still controlled every aspect of an actor’s personal life want Marilyn sent to a private hospital for fear of the publicity of an overdose, or do you believe in the Kennedy conspiracy? She did threaten to reveal her affairs with both JFK and Bobby that night. Just one of the Hollywood mysteries. Don’t even get me started on George Reeves. (TV’s Superman. Been by his home a couple of times. Very creepy.)

I did stray away from your question so I apologize, Mike. You’ve seen those signs new parents put in the rear windows of their cars, “Baby On Board”? Perhaps we would all see better drivers if we replaced that sign with “AK-47 On Board.” What do you think?

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Tom Neuhoff is a Hollywood comedy writer and former resident of Coeur d’Alene.