The Bucket

"The Bucket" (this isn't a picture of my car but an identical car I found online)

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My co-worker Char is now reading the book I recommended: Hot Lights, Cold Steel by Michael J. Collins. I have mentioned this on my blog before; you really need to read this book! She reminded me of an excerpt (one of many) that talked about the author's battle through residency with junker cars:

Highway 14 was deserted at that hour and I kept the Battleship cruising along at seventy. The car had no dashboard light, and since it was still dark, I occasionally had to turn on the overhead light to see how fast I was going.

The wind was streaming in through the holes in the floor. At seventy miles an hour and the temperature near twenty below, the windchill had to be approaching a couple hundred below. There was a four-day-old copy of the Post-Bulletin on the seat next to me. I spread it across my lap and started fiddling with the heater. I turned it off and on. I pounded my fist on the dashboard. I jiggled the control knob. But, after fifteen minutes, as I passed Mantorville, I realized there would be no heat on this trip.

I had another seventy-five miles to go. My legs were shaking and I was starting to lose feeling in my feet. In desperation I looked into the backseat. Next to the car seat I saw Mooey, Mary Kate's brown-and-white, stuffed cow. The car swerved onto the shoulder as I stretched behind me and grabbed the cow.

Poor Mooey. There would be no coming back from this mission. I wedged her into the largest hole in the floor. Immediately the cold draft up my pan leg diminished noticeably. "'This a far, far better thing you do than you have ever done before," I recited.

This conversation started Char and I talking about old junkers, and I was suddenly thrust down memory lane.

My first junker image was that of one of the cars my father bought. I have no idea what kind of car it was (I was 12 and could really care less), but I do remember that it had two doors and that the windows did not roll down and that the passenger side door did not open from the inside. Now, keeping this in mind, I will add something to this story that is completely and 100% factual. The car did not have air.

Let me remind you that we lived in Fort Lauderdale, Florida (the middle of the Caribbean!) and then repeat myself: the windows did not roll down, the passenger side door did not open from the inside, and there was no air.

I have vivid images of riding in that car after school feeling like I would suffocate. My father could open the driver's door at traffic stops but that was the only relief we received. I honestly do not have any idea how we managed the fifteen minute drive home each evening. How did we not DIE?

Ten years later, another junker would join my life. Those who know us well, probably remember -- "The Bucket". We bought this car from friends for $500. We were busy paying off our debt at an exponential rate, JB had gone back to school pre-med, and we didn't want another car payment. Thus the birth of "The Bucket". I am not sure which of my students first named this car "The Bucket" but it stuck, and we never referred to this car as anything but what it was ever after. When I really thought about it, I realized that the name was very appropriate. Imagine an old rusty bucket sitting in the corner of the barn and you just about have the image of our car.

When we bought "The Bucket" it was sky blue with rust spots everywhere. One day, one of my native Kentuckian students strode up to my desk, clicked his boot on the corner of my chair and said, "Coach Kaaay" (and you must picture this in the slowest country drawl you can imagine). "I saw that there bucket outside the school today. Reck-on I could paint it for you fer about a hundred dollars. Or, you could just give me a B."

I paid Ben "a hundred dollars". He got a C by the skin of his teeth.

I told John the story and told it just like Ben said it. I remember John saying that no one actually talked that slowly and with that big of an accent. A few weeks later he met Ben. Then he apologized to me. Ben talked every bit as slow as I said.

From that point forward "The Bucket" was black (except for the few spots Ben missed). The Bucket had a few problems including no air and no heat. JB reminds me that it did have heat, however, it took about twenty minutes to get the heat to actually materialize into heat. I only lived two miles from work. I would go out early on cold days, start "The Bucket" up, and then return ten minutes later to head to work. I soon learned it didn't matter how early I started "The Bucket". Without fail, the windows would fog halfway to work, and I would be forced to drive down the road in frigid temperatures with my HEAD OUT THE WINDOW. I kid you not. I can have students vouch for this image because it actually existed. I honestly believe there is a picture somewhere that will emerge when I least expect it.

My players loved "The Bucket". I even had one student ask me if he could use it for Prom. For legal reasons, I declined. But "The Bucket" did offer its advantages. I could put about twelve kids in there without anyone even touching each other. In addition, the speakers had fallen through their respective slots in the back window causing the car to shake quite violently when I put music on. The kids would joke that "Coach K has a system!" I found the rattling quite annoying.

Another problem for "The Bucket" was that the speedometer did not work. We realized this when we caravanned to a game only to face the question, "Why were you going ninety?" when we arrived. "Ninety?!?!" We had no idea with no speedometer.

"The Bucket" also did not have a working gas gauge. The worst of my "running out of gas moments" occurred one morning at the busy four-way-stop right in front of the school. I ran into the building to call John to bring me some gas. Everyone knew everyone in that town and by the time I got into the building, the cop was on the phone asking "Coach K to please remove 'The Bucket' from the intersection." I told him I would as soon as I could.

However, "The Bucket" served its purpose. It got me back and forth the two mile round trip to work for the three years we lived in Franklin. It easily carried the piles of soccer, volley, and basketballs required of it. It loaded students who needed a quick ride with ease. And, it only required a few hundred dollars worth of work over the three years. In the end, I sold it to a student for $450 right before we moved to Minnesota. We didn't think "The Bucket" could survive the cold Minnesota winters.

Judging from the book excerpt that I started this Blog with, I think we were right. I remember how cold I was in Kentucky without heat and the image of Michael Collins riding down the highway with a stuffed animal shoved through the hole in the floor board makes me cold just by thinking about it.