Jake and his Hot Trans Am – Conclusion

Well, I guess Donna’s sister, Cynthia (aka Sister Snitch) couldn’t keep her big mouth shut and word got around Paly High School that Donna had a “New Boyfriend”, and that it was me.

A few days later an angry Jake called me up on the phone.

Me: ” Hello?”

Jake: “Dude I just heard you’re going out with Donna?!”

Me: sounding guilty as sin…uh..where did you hear that?”

Jake: “From Cynthia, Donna’s sister, it’s all over High School. So is it true?!”

Me: “Kinda…”

Jake: “Chuck I can’t f*ckin’ believe you?! I thought we were friends

Me: “Whoa Big Fella! Take it, easy Dude. Yeah, it’s true but, Donna and I are only going to a Football Game…just as ” friends.”

Jake: “Just friends, huh?!” He sneered.

Me: “Yeah, just friends, and we’ll probably just spend the night talking about you anyway. She was pretty upset that you broke up with her.”

Silence.

Me: changing the subject. “So, how are things going with Christine?”

Jake: “F*CK YOU ASSH*LE!!! The phone on his end was slammed down with an eardrum-shattering finality.

I stared at my phone receiver stunned, my right ear suddenly deaf.

Well sh*t. That didn’t go well…

And so, that was the end of my friendship with Bob Jacobsen.

Damn. One down, one to go.

*

So on Friday Donna and I went to the game and had a pretty good time. Ironically, enough we did talk about Jake the whole night. It was like suddenly the glue that kept us together was somehow missing, it was too damn uncomfortable to not have Jake with us.

We went out a few more times after that but nothing went down between us. I guess not having Jake in the picture really did make a difference.

A couple of weeks went by of awkward dating, and then one morning I saw her riding in some muscle car named Terry to school. She was sitting close to him in the front seat, which translated in my mind that they were now a couple, or at least seeing each other. 

So, I stopped calling her.

Now it was two down…and Jake and Donna were both out of my life. 

Damn, I missed them.

I put down my pipe, in an ashtray on my table, and stare out of my “Man Cave” which is located in our garage, at the fast approaching dusk. Was there anything else I wanted to add to my story?

Yeah. One more thing.

Ten years later after I had gone to college at Chico, joined the Marines, and tried to get an acting career going, I came home to help my Mom move again.

Matt was unavailable to help so it was up to me to figure out what to do with Mom’s furniture since she was moving into a smaller, government-funded studio apartment for Seniors in Palo Alto.

Out of the blue, the phone rang.

Me: “Hello?”

Voice: “Chuck. Is that you Dude?!”

Me: “Yeah, who’s this?”

Voice: “It’s Me! Bob Jacobsen! How’s it going?!”

Me: “Oh, Hey Jake. I’m fine. I’m just helping Mom move some of her stuff.”

Jake: “Yeah, i heard you were back in town Mr. Big Shot Hollywood Actor you!”

Me: “Ha! I’m not much of anything these days Buddy.”

Jake: “Oh yeah? That’s not what I heard?! Anyway, some of the Academy boys want to get together for a reunion. I thought you might want to join us at Bob’s?”

Me: “Who’s going?”

Jed: “Toots, Sway, Weasely, and Big Clint.”

Me: God, I hadn’t heard those names in eons. Those nicknames now sounded like they belonged to graduates right out of San Quentin, not the posh Boy’s School we had all attended.

“When?”

Jake: “8 O’Clock on Friday. So are you in? It’ll  be Bitchin’ to get some of the gang together, just like Old Times.”

Did anyone use the word “Bitchin'” anymore?

Me: “Yeah, ok, that works for me. So how did you get my numb…?”

Jake: “Gotta run Dude. I got this Hot Chick waiting for me in my car. See ya!”

Me: “Ok. Later Jake.”

I hung up the phone and made a mental note to meet the Guys on Friday at Bob’s.

I was supposed to move Mom’s furniture on Friday morning, find a storage shed for stuff she didn’t have room for, and then help clean up her apartment so she could get her cleaning deposit back.

Well as the saying goes – “Sh*t happens.” The van arrived late, Mom dithered, I had trouble fitting all Mom’s crap into it, the apartment cleaning took a lot longer than I thought it would. By the time I was done it was well after midnight. So I missed the reunion at Bob’s.

I had just gotten back to my life in Sonoma County a few weeks later, after getting Mom settled in her new digs when I got a call from Toots. He informed me that Jake had been killed in a bad auto accident outside Santa Cruz on Hiway 17.

It seems Jake had lost control of his Porsche coming around a hairpin turn. He flipped his car over oncoming traffic and his car had slammed into a tree.

When the paramedics arrived Jake was still conscious but complaining he couldn’t feel his body from the waist down. 

He asked for a cigarette, and as he smoked made a pass at one of the female paramedics, asking her if she was available Friday night?  He then laughed when she politely told him she didn’t date “smokers.” A few minutes later he said “Awww, F*ck it. Closed his eyes and was gone.

His funeral was held in the South Bay, the following weekend,  but,  I missed that too as I had to work.

I heard that Donna had attended the funeral with her husband Terry and three kids of their own. They now live in San Jose and are involved in selling real estate to all the dot commers and techies who have money to blow on expensive homes in the South Bay.

Bob’s Big Boy is long gone, and a lot of the orchards have been cut down to build apartment buildings.

The Bay Area that I knew no longer exists for me anymore.

Once in a while whenever I see a vintage muscle car on the street or see an old Trans Am in a car show I think of my old buddy Jake. 

I am sure wherever he is – he’s probably still chasing chicks and tearing up roadways in some souped-up hot rod. Well, at least I hope he is, as that was when he was the happiest. He deserves that much.

Damn, I sure do miss that Bastard.

Swerve carefully, Old Buddy.

Finis