Randy's Road Trip

A true story by Randy Shebby

I answered an ad on Craig’s list from someone who advertised an old working kegerator for sale. My neighbor Shaun went along with me to help load this into the Chevy Blazer. The location was an out of the way place in a town I never heard before located somewhere between Allentown and Bethlehem.

 The directions the GPS was giving lead us deep into the back section where the area became noticeably poor and gray as the homes didn’t receive the upkeep and the cars were pieced together with different color parts. We passed an old banana bike from the 1970’s that was completely painted orange – tires, handlebars, seat, everything was orange. We drove past and then had to turn around as the GPS wasn’t giving accurate directions to the address. We decided it must be this house at the top of the dirt road.

 As we turned into the dirt road driveway there sat a Ford Pinto dragster – or the remains of one; as the body had been extended and the big slicks protruded from the back wheel wells. I hadn’t seen a Ford Pinto hatch back in almost 30 years and had never seen one turned into a dragster. But there it was covered with a few pine needles from the nearby tree.

 We drove up to the top of the driveway and parked near another vehicle. As we got out of the car a man called to us from the other direction. It was a black man dressed in white, it looked like he was wearing an outfit one would see wearing if he worked in an ice cream parlor. He had a white delivery van. We walked over and he said you boys look like two good size men - would you be willing to give me a hand. We both agreed and he took us to where this phone booth was laying on the ground with a pipe and a concrete bottom from where it had been buried in the ground. He asked if we could pick it up and place it in his van. We both grabbed the post and together we tried to lift and it wouldn’t budge. We apologized but told the man that he would probably need a front end loader to move the phone booth. He said well thanks anyways and we proceeded to the house to see if it was the one advertising the kegerator.

 The house where we stopped was surrounded by dozens of plastic bins full of beer cans and bottles stacked so it looked like a wall. A dog was barking, a baby was crying and a woman yelled for her husband. This disheveled young man came out looking rough from the wear and tear and asked if we were here for the kegerator – we said yes and he took us around back to the Bilco doors that lead to the basement. As we walked in there was dirty laundry everywhere and a beat up couch with a small table and tv and a bunch more empty beer bottles. There sat the old kegerator. He plugged it in and showed us that it worked and I asked why he decided to sell it and he said it was his grand fathers and he hadn’t used it in a while and he said he quit drinking. We both looked at each other and thought when – last night? I said well it looks ok – should I write a check? And he said I only take cash – I‘ve been scammed before. I said ok – where’s the nearest ATM? Two miles down the road. I said ok we’ll be back.

 Now this all took less than 5 minutes. As we walked toward the car we noticed the black man dressed in white with the white van was gone and so was the telephone booth. We both looked at each other as this was impossible – we were within earshot of the cars and heard nothing like a front end loader or other people nor did we hear the van leave. It was like it had just disappeared into thin air. We were perplexed, baffled.

 We got into the car and drove to the ATM and got money. The first ATM was out of order and the second we found was inside a supermarket. We got the money and drove back past the orange bicycle and Ford Pinto dragster. We noticed there was a real nice car parked there that hadn’t been there before. The guy came out of the house and we said were back for the kegerator and we gave him the money. I said that’s a nice looking car and he said yeah I just bought it. Again we both thought this is the strangest place – let’s get the kegerator and go. So we dragged it out of the basement and stuffed it into the back of the Blazer and left – leaving the ice cream guy, the orange bicycle and the Pinto dragster behind.

 The person’s grandfather had indeed bought the kegerator back in 1972. It had the paperwork and a user’s guide. This kegerator is different in that the compressor is located on the top – not like one I have ever seen before called the Flagron. Though my neighbor has since left the area the kegerator is still remains in use.