It Should Have
                Been a Great Day 
                by Don Drewniak 
                I worked fifty-eight
                hours a week at H. Schwartz and Sons Lumber and
                Hardware in Fall River, Massachusetts for four
                consecutive summers beginning with the end of my
                sophomore year in high school. The only breaks
                were Sundays, the Fourth of July and Wednesday
                afternoons when the business closed at noon. 
                Following
                lunch at home on those precious afternoons, I
                drove rain or shine five miles to a small beach
                in Portsmouth, Rhode Island. The third Wednesday
                in July following my graduating from high school
                proved to be a disaster. 
                After taking a
                swim, I discovered that I had parked my 1951
                Mercury in loose sand on the beach and was unable
                to back out. Rather than ask for help to give me
                a push by the few beach goers who were there, I
                foolishly decided to floor the car in first gear
                and make a U-turn to get off the beach. Bam! Thud!I
                snapped the driveshaft. 
                Car repair was
                easy back then. I hitchhiked home, borrowed my
                father's Ford (he had used the company truck to
                go to work), made my way to a junkyard and paid
                fifty cents for a used driveshaft. It was back to
                the beach. The new driveshaft was in place
                fifteen minutes later. 
                Meanwhile, a
                small crowd of people gathered around to watch
                the show. Six or seven of them pushed the Merc
                while I accelerated just enough to get the tires
                moving. I was on hard-packed sand moments later. 
                Following a
                round of thank yous, I parked the Merc in a
                nearby parking lot. After returning the Ford, I
                hitchhiked to retrieve my beloved Mercury. 
                I had a drive-in
                theater date planned for the evening with a girl
                I met a month or so earlier at an A&W in Fall
                River. It was closing in on seven when I hopped
                into my car and attempted to start it. Nothing.
                Dead battery. My father had taken his Ford to go
                fishing. The truck was off limits. 
                So much for
                the date. 
                Sleep was
                difficult to come by that night as I keep
                dwelling on the disaster that was my afternoon
                and evening. In addition, there was the specter
                of the next three work days. Thursday, 7:30AM-5:30PM
                with one hour for lunch. Friday, 7:30AM-9:00PM.
                Thirteen and a half hours with one hour for lunch
                and one for supper. Saturday's schedule was the
                same as that of Thursday. 
                
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