After I finished one year of college for Social Services at Suomi College, (that's what it was called then), a group of my friends discussed traveling to Denver Colorado to live and work. This sounded appealing to me, so I found two others willing to come with me. My cousin Warren T. and friend Chris A. My vehicle, a 1964 Ford Galaxy 500, was stored in the yard for the winter, and I didn’t want to ruin the freshly painted body with road salt. With a little bit of digging, I removed the snow around my partially buried car. I was able to do some minor work on it and get it running. I made sure to bring my toolbox in case of a breakdown.
When I deemed it ready, we three got our things together and left town at about the end of April. We didn’t have to travel very far to see the bare ground and feel better temperatures. Our trip brought us through Wisconsin, Minnesota, part of Iowa, Nebraska, and into Colorado. While driving, I paid close attention to my car, the motor, and any other sounds it made. Shortly after arriving in Colorado, I noticed that my steering wheel had a little twitch to it. I was feeling something out of the ordinary; something was not right. I pulled over to the shoulder because, in my mind, I figured that it was a wheel bearing even though I did not hear any sounds that suggested it was. I got out of the car, and I proceeded to grab the driver's side tire and tried to wiggle it. That one felt fine, so I checked out the passenger side. I found that it was a bearing that was going bad. I could smell it even before I grabbed the tire. I jacked up the car and grabbed the tire again. This time, I could feel the loose bearing. When I took the wheel and the brake drum off, I found an almost burnt-up hot bearing.
Soon after stopping, a cop pulled up to see what we were up to. He was curious as to where these three guys were headed. He asked questions and was kind of peeking into my car, looking us over, assessing our character. After being convinced we were on the level, he told me about a mechanic shop a distance down the road. He called a tow truck for us, and we rode with him into Brush, Colorado. After examining my spindle, the mechanic showed me that the bearing race welded itself to the spindle. He said he could try to cut it off with a chisel, but he didn’t know if the spindle was damaged. I asked him to try, and we’ll see what we got. After working on it for a bit he got it off and it appeared the spindle was fine. He took emery cloth, cleaned it up, and put the new bearing on. I don’t remember what he charged me, but the tow truck didn’t charge me anything. Between the three of us, we didn’t have to spend much, and we were back on the road again.
We arrived on Peoria Street in Aurora, heading towards the location where the others were living. All of a sudden there came a loud scraping sound on the back right of my car. I pulled over and found that my rear axle bearing went and the axle slid out of its housing. The half-skirted wheel well prevented the axle from coming all the way out. I had the two guys with me push on the driver's side of the car while I drove slowly. Them pushing on the side of the car was helping push the axle back in. We parked the car in a safe place to work on it. Up the street, I could see a parts store. I went and got a new bearing. When I got back we jacked up the car and took things apart. I needed a hammer to get the old one off so I went and knocked on someone’s door and got one. The old bearing came right off and the new one was pounded on. When everything was back together, we went to find the other guys up the street. We found their location, but they weren’t there. We talked to the people at Motel 6, told them who we were looking for, and left them a note. Eventually, we got connected and we found them camped out in the parking lot of Wendy’s restaurant on the corner of 39th and Paris. The guys that were there were Glen Peterson, Tim R., Tom R., Pete R., and Peach B. Glen had his car, Peter had his Blazer and Peach had his truck. Next to where they were parked was a pay phone and a dumpster that Wendy’s used nightly to throw away unsold hamburgers and other foodstuff. The nearby pay phone number was shared with those at home. When the restaurant came out at the end of their shift to throw away leftover food, some of the guys would intercept and get something to eat. This didn’t happen too often though.
Peach slept in his truck, Glen and Tim slept in Glen’s car, and Tom and Peter slept in the Blazer. In my car, the three of us had to figure out a sleeping arrangement. I always had the front seat and the other two slept in the back. With my old car, the drive shaft tunnel presented a problem. A bed was made by piling clothing on one side of the “Hump” and placing my leather suitcase on the other side of the “hump” to make a bed. It was decided that they would alternate each night and take turns sleeping on the “hump”. I never heard them grumble but I know I slept fine. We often slept with the windows open all night; never worrying about bugs or unruly people. Since I slept in the front, I controlled the radio. Warren wanted country music and Chris wanted classic rock, so I compromised. I played classical much to the chagrin of each. I had the guys keep their stuff in the big trunk and clean up after themselves. After all, it was our house.
I wondered at times what I was getting into. Where was I going to find a job and how long would I last be sleeping in my car? I hoped we wouldn’t be kicked out or be bothered by other people in the area; I never did this before. We had a change in weather for a bit. With the Rocky Mountains not too far away, the weather can surprise you. We woke up one morning and everything was covered in snow, but it didn’t last long. The nice weather returned right away.
All went fine for a time until we got noticed. There were many semi-trucks parked along the street we lived on. They were staying in hotels every night, and someone was breaking into their trucks. We got questioned by many truckers. The cops were told about us and the rash of break-ins. Sometimes in the morning, they’d wake us up and question us. They checked our cars and in Glen’s car, they found his pistol. He was able to prove it was his. I happened to be gone somewhere when they found his pistol and they never found mine. After a few early morning checks, they finally were convinced it wasn’t us.
While sitting in my car one night, a person ran up to my car. He came running across the freeway from Commerce City. Commerce City was a pretty sketchy area, with lots of crime and slums. He startled the heck out of me. Right away he whips out a large wad of money and says he wants to buy my car. He oohed and aahed over my black interior and plastic chrome dashboard. I told him it’s not for sale that this is my home. He started peeling bills off and made offers, but I wasn’t having it. He eventually walked away when I told him that someone was breaking into those (pointing) semis and the truckers were mad. The cops kept coming to check if it was us doing the mischief I told him. After that brief encounter with this man, the trucks were never broken into again. I let the cops know about this individual and what I told him about the break-ins.
In time, more guys came. They were Willy P., Carl H., John R., Dave M., Stu K., Warren P., Glen P., Dale R., Roger H., and Keith J. All together there were 8 cars. Willy, John R., Stu K., and Dave M. came with theirs. We outgrew the Wendy’s parking lot. The owner of the warehouse next door told us that we could park in his lot. He liked that because we would prevent theft. The warehouse owner even told us in exchange for our presence, that we could use his restroom to wash up in and use his telephone to find a job. He said we could use his pallets stacked outside by the dumpster for whatever we wanted. Tom made a bed with a roof and slept under it. Others made benches to sit on. There was a water faucet on the outside wall without a valve handle but with a bent nail, we could turn it on. A shower stall was built, and showers were taken. With all the hot weather warming the plumbing in the brick wall, the guys that showered here would have pretty great showers. Suds and water flowed across the parking lot. With time going by, and not getting much to eat because of lack of money, one would get pretty hungry, especially hearing the drive-through orders at Wendy’s being repeated by the employees. I always liked to hear Wendy’s double, everything, with no tomato.
I found a job that lasted a very short time. It was at a nursery many miles away. I talked Peach into bringing me for a small fee. I couldn’t leave my roommates without a place to live. Peach then decided to stop giving rides so I had to look for another job. I found one at a construction company building condominiums. I was a “back-up carpenter”. I had to purchase a hammer and a nail bag. What I had to do was change window frames that were built in the wrong location and pound lots of 16-penny nails with my 24-ounce hammer. I’d have to nail together double 2x4s that were warped. Air-nailers failed to draw them together. The job lasted for a while until my knees gave out because of the damp wet weather I was working in. I had to quit and then I was able to get a part-time job down the street changing the charcoal in the filters for Coors Beer. This involved dumping the old charcoal that was inside of a metal screen-like cage. This cage was about 1” thick by 30” square with small holes in the sides. A big square with one end that had a cap that could be removed for replacing with new charcoal. It was dirty work and I had to wear a mask. I had asked the company if I could get hired full-time. They didn’t want to because I lived in my car. They figured that I wouldn’t stick around long enough to make it worthwhile for them.
Others had various types of work, and some didn’t work hard at all. Across the road from us was a telemarketing firm. A few of the guys worked there. Glen and Tim were “Hoddys”. They brought bricks up to the chimney builders with a pole that had a “V” shape board on top of it. One could see some guys were losing weight and getting skinny, with their clothes hanging on them. With my meager funds, I’d go to the gas station nearby and buy a can of Mountain Dew, two cinnamon rolls, and the Rocky Mountain News to read after breakfast. The others that had jobs left for work and I just sat and read my paper.
Periodically the filter company would have me come to work. Sometimes they’d want me to bring one of the guys to help. When that was requested, I had to figure out who to bring. I’d go around and ask each person privately how much money they had and write it down. This is how I would figure out who to bring with me. Some didn’t have a dime on their person. We didn’t earn much but it was the best we could do. This money lasted a long time. The only time I spent money was for breakfast and some I used for generic peanut butter, jam, and bread. I only ate two meals a day. I survived on about $2.50 a day. This was after the public pool I went to 3 miles away didn’t charge me anymore when they found out I was living in my car. On a rare occasion, we’d go to the Royal Fork. We’d pay about $3.50 for all we could eat. There were many types of meats, veggies, drinks, desserts, a salad bar, and everything a hungry belly would want. This was a real treat; better than Mountain Dew and cinnamon rolls for breakfast or PB and Js for supper. With shrinking diets, we often had sore stomachs because our eyes were bigger than our stomachs….
Part II coming next week Friday.