My New Truck & A World Class Prince

1964 Ford F100 43,k original miles

A World Class Prince

"What kind of truck are you interested in?"... asked the stranger at my door last Thursday. I replied that I've got my eye on a 1964 Ford F100 that has 43,800 original miles. I found it on Carsoup.com and it was sitting at a farm in North Dakota. My car had been for sale in my driveway for some time now and on the little sign in the rear window I'd indicated the reason for selling my car was that I wanted to buy a truck. Obviously this stranger had stopped to read my sign. I thought maybe he was going to ask to test-drive my '96 Lincoln Continental but that wasn't the case. He was interested in something else. One, he was going to proceed to tell me about a camper van and a pickup that he wanted me to consider buying. Second, he needed a friend and would turn out to be an unusual character and a world class prince.

While I wasn't interested in buying anything but the truck I'd found online, I was polite enough to practice my listening skills as this interesting, rather unkempt fellow, began to unfold more than just an opportunity to sell me something. While we stood and visited on my front step, another person interest in my car strolled up to the house with word that he was prepared to buy it then and there. I was anxious to make that happen since I'd been waiting a long time to find a buyer and knew the owner of my future prize pickup wouldn't wait forever for me to buy from him. The kindly older gentlemen sat quietly by as I made it clear to my '96 Lincoln Lotto Winner, that I wasn't interested in shaving off much of my asking price. We agreed to a $50 discount and the deal was done.

Before the older gentlemen left, he introduced himself as Chuck and informed me he would come back another day to strike up our conversation where we left off. This guy was very articulate which didn't match his appearance at all. I really didn't think much of his promise to come back nor did I believe he would. I had made it pretty clear that I had my heart set on this North Dakota truck. At the time I didn't realize it but this world class prince had no intention of fading into the backdrop of my neighborhood landscape. He was back two days later in his beat up old Mustang.

"JL, would you like to take a ride with me and go look at the truck I was telling you about?" Let's just say Chuck is persistent. "It won't take long and I'll have you back before you know it." I figured it wouldn't hurt to take a ride down to Northeast Minneapolis just in case this other truck was a hidden treasure. We all know somebody who knew someone that answered a newspaper ad for a '59 Chevy only to find when they got there was discovered a mint condition Corvette hidden under an old tarp in a barn. I wasn't going to miss out on my Corvette even if it came in the shape of an old truck.

Well, I couldn't get into the rusty Mustang until Chuck opened my door from the inside. There was no handle on the outside of my door. That was a switch for me. Usually when I'm being lured into a stranger's car, the door knob is missing on the inside and I begin to imagine my mug on the outside of a milk carton. This car was a real piece of junk. As the transmission literally slipped into gear, we backed out of my driveway and pointed Chucks wheels toward the South.

This is where the story gets interesting. From the time we left my driveway until we returned 40 minutes later, this world class prince never stopped to take a breath as he began to tell me the story of his life. As he chattered a mile-a-minute, my thoughts were, is this what I sound like when I don't know when to shut up? Regardless, it was going to be an interesting ride. The truck we went to see turned out to be more like a Corvair than a Corvette. However, Chuck himself turned out to be a classic old Cadillac.

In the time it took to travel approximately 8 miles round trip, Chuck, this shabbily dressed rather frumpy old man, told me stories that were as far fetched as I'd ever thought I'd hear. From meeting and being hugged by Oprah to being Burt Lancaster's stunt double, I almost started laughing. "Why me Lord? What have I ever done to deserve this?" Chuck rattled on about the meetings he'd had with the Governor and there was the time he ran for public office in California and, don't let me forget the time he was on Jerry Springer. He had also been a regular on the Starsky & Hutch television series. To top things off, he had been one of the founding financiers in the 1960's for what is known today as Esprit. Supposedly this meant he is worth millions on paper. All of this coming from a man driving a beat up old Mustang and wearing the same clothes he'd worn two days earlier.

I've learned over the years that some people just need a friend and it's not my job to judge them unless I'm considering marrying their sister. We arrived back in my driveway and finished our conversation. Just before I got out, Chuck asked if I'd be a world class prince and loan him $5. Now you know where I got the term, world class prince. He used it on me. I said I'd be glad to give him $5 and he didn't have to worry about paying me back. I kind of felt sorry for him not to mention I considered his stories were worth at least $5.

Because we live in an amazing age of technology, I couldn't wait to get into my house and Google my new buddy. Either he was a great liar or...? I've done it before on other people I've met so I thought I'd try it again.

After I read three Googled pages full of websites on the accomplishments of Chuck Hollom, I really did start to laugh. Not at him but at myself. Nothing he had said to me had been made up. I'd seen his ID card for his membership in the Screen Actors Guild and an ID for the Vets Hospital where he'd recently been due to a stroke, so I knew he wasn't lying about his name. He told his stories so fast and with such detail that I remember thinking, "either this guy is a really good con artist or maybe some of this stuff is true." Because the stories all seemed so far fetched, I was leaning toward "con artist."

Why the old beat up Mustang? Why the shabby clothes? Why did he need to borrow money from me? I later told my wife that this man, born in 1941, was probably a lot like me only times ten. He was highly creative as an actor and obviously highly intelligent. He quoted famous people, movie scripts and classic novels as he spoke. Very passionate and smart. His mind never stopped whether it was telling me a story or trying to solve problems of world pollution or world hunger or where I might find another truck.

All of a sudden I felt a real kindred spirit with this stranger who was only a few years younger than my dad. All of a sudden I saw a man that was probably so brilliant and so talented that he had become worthless. Kinda the way I feel when I'm writing for my blog, or my unfinished book, rather than focusing on making money to buy groceries. That may sound strange to you but let me explain. Although I often don't feel highly intelligent, my test scores shown to me by the psychologist that tested me for ADHD and my IQ supposedly ranks me up there with the upper 2% of the world's population. My creative juices that won't give me a vacation for one minute also rank me up there with other creative crazies. Highly creative types with a high IQ either live with great success or they end up sleeping on the couch of a boyhood friend because they're homeless. That's where Chuck's life is at right now. Rarely do guys like Chuck fall into the dark abyss of mediocrity.

Chuck had been to the top and was now on the bottom. I know what it's like to wake up and look in the mirror and think that my life has unlimited potential then right behind me is the battle to follow through with ideas, manage mundane issues such as finances and try to remember the names of the people I just met five minutes ago. I struggle with feeling much smarter than my life seems to measure up to. I know what it's like to have a brain that won't quit thinking about problem solving for me and my friends or family. I forever have lived with the struggle to pay attention while you tell me about your dreams and wishes. In Chuck I saw how I might end up if I don't continue working on my own struggles. I've learned in the last few years that my success in life is going to be found by me depending on many of my friends when I need sanity.

When I feel directionless, as I often do, I go see John Murphy because he seems to always help me focus on a direction. When I need to experience stability I visit my friend Gordy Schmitz because to me he has a calming spirit about him that gives me that feeling of stability. When I need a laugh and to feel protected, I call Brad Winters because he's one of the funniest guys I know which is why I steal his jokes for my own act. He also can be trusted and I'd bet he would cut his own arm off before he'd betray my trust. When I need perspective, Dwight Denyes has been there to remind me of some of his experiences that often square me away. When I need encouragement, my brother Tim has never let me down and always believes in me. Bottom line, I've got about 50 other needs in my life that 50 other friends like yourselves help me fulfill, right down to who I play golf with when I want to feel good about my game.

Why did Chuck come by my house to sell me a truck? He probably didn't know it but what he really wanted was another friend. Someone he could tell his story to and in doing so remind himself that his accomplishments outweigh his defeats. Some people such as myself do tend to talk too much but there's usually an underlying reason. Even if I was a bit skeptical of Chuck, for him it was probably very therapeutic to just hear himself speak of his past successes.

Since our ride in his junker, Chuck's been back to my house for one more visit. That time we went for a ride in my "new" old truck to visit a friend of his who runs a muffler shop. Chuck loved my '64 Ford F100 and understood why I was so insistent on getting it. However, he thought the muffler might be bad. I explained the exhaust was all new but we went for the ride anyway. Turns out the truck is loud because it's equipped with high performance glass packs. For $130 I can get a quieted ride if the day ever comes I want one. Chuck and I had a great ride back to my house and again I heard more stories. It wasn't difficult to listen because I felt like I was needed. He was truly a world class prince who just needed to hear his own story out loud. I understood completely.

Oh, one more thing. When I need a friend to keep me company because I'm planning to take an overnight train ride to Fargo to buy an old pickup, I call Dale Hagenson because he's the kind of friend that's always up for an adventure. The train leaves at 11:10 P.M. and arrives in Fargo, $34 and 4 hours later. "Eddie, (nickname for Dale) don't tick off that mean train lady. She's been drinking."

MY best to all of you my friends. Keep your friendships alive. We need each other from time to time even if it's just to hear ourselves talk. And Chuck Hollom, if you ever find this blog, just know that I think you're a world class prince.