The number seven often brings back memories of my orange and white Volkswagen Campmobile. It was an early morning homecoming along Seventh Street Road and seven police and undercover officers converging their cars at an intersection near Algonquin Parkway which I recall was responsible for creating that mind movie for me.
Once a month, our non-profit Gallery sponsored a Big Bingo held in a hall located out Dixie Highway in Louisville, Kentucky. This was not your everyday sort of activity but one that drew participants from surrounding states because we offered large cash prizes as well as expensive gift prizes. Players in busses arrived from as far away as Wisconsin, Georgia, Florida, and states in between. I once saw a couple put their fifty thousand dollar coverall cash winnings in a cooler, carry it out to the trunk of their car, wave goodbye, and start their return trip home to Tennessee.
During its years of operation, the Big Bingo raised significant amounts of finances for churches and many appreciative non-profit groups in the area.
Taking in large sums of money made it necessary to make an accurate count of the stacks of dollars in all denominations. The counting process went on all during the Bingo session with bank deposits made throughout each event. When the Big Bingo’s Final Coverall ended at midnight, players and volunteers left the building and the staff completed the final count for the evening.
So along about 2:00 a.m., the staff would unwind at a local restaurant for breakfast. It was around 3:00 a.m. after a blueberry syrup-satisfying pancake breakfast that I began the trip back to downtown Louisville in the Gallery’s recently purchased Ford Van, where I was to drop off the volunteer artist, Frank Campbell.
After the Gallery purchased the white Ford extended cab van we removed the rear seats to make room for all the exhibition equipment needed for outdoor art shows which included pegboards, easels, tackle boxes of S hooks, drapery hooks, and electrical ties along with a sledgehammer. The sledgehammer was used to help set up the annual St. James Court Art Show as a Gallery Project.
Frank and I were discussing how much more comfortable the Van was with its marvelous power steering compared to my orange and white Volkswagen Campmobile when I heard a siren and saw lights flashing behind us.
I pulled over to the side of the road and got out as requested. Looking around I noticed police cars stopping in all directions.
“You were driving a little crooked back there.” I was told by the young man in uniform facing me.
I explained that the van was new and I was not quite used to its power steering.
Following instructions, I touched my nose and tried to walk a straight line while Frank answered the questions of a police officer through his passenger window. The officer had looked in the side and back van doors and wanted to know what all that stuff was in there.
Frank told him I was an artist and that was “show stuff”.
“She sure woke everybody up!” the officer pointed to the different vehicles that converged at the scene. Frank counted seven in all.
Shining a light in my face, the police officer testing me said, “Well, I guess you are sober enough to drive home.”
I started to reply that I was not a drinker and the strongest thing I had that morning was blueberry syrup but then I heard that little voice in my head, “Gerry, shut up! Drive home! Now!”
So I said, “Thank you, Sir.” got in the van, and slowly drove away. I count that as one of my “grid moments” that I learned in the second grade. When you can’t win an argument, smile and slowly walk away. This time I just drove away.