In reflection, I realized that Geoff was often the victim of the piece. There he was without respect being used. He too was a lonely soul. I came upon him on several unguarded occasions where he appeared lost. Each time I was saddened. He was a man who figured prominently in my early years . In fact, he saved my life. One evening, Barry Sharp and I, a non-swimmer, decided to paddle a homemade raft using boards for paddles around Margaret's Point into Margaret's Bay. We got caught in a tide rip and the current was sweeping us out into Haro Strait, when Geoff , who had seen us from a window in a house on Vantreight Lane, rowed out and towed us to safety.

All summer long, I worked on my car using stuff I dragged home to be subjected to my crude or non-existent skills. To me it was my "hot rod". In the Fall I got my drivers license and prepared to launch. Yes, it started and I took it to school but something was wrong. Neighbourhood people tried to help and my mechanical knowledge took a quantum leap. We discovered that all the exhaust ports were cracked and I had water injection into the combustion chambers. The engine was toast. A friend, also an outcast, Barry Goodwin found me another car for $15. It had a motor that ran. Jim, for once, located a garage downtown that would tolerate me changing engines. On a slow day, the mechanics actually swapped the engine for me. I felt I had wanted to do it myself. Graciousness, was not one of my strengths. Still, I was underway on the bumpy road to automotive obsession.

In truth, the last thing I needed was that damn car and several that followed. Over the Fall. I painted it red with a brush. My friend Bob Genn was going to spray it for me but I didn't do any prep. So, my mother helped with the brushing. I found some cracked 15" wheels with bald tires and Gordy Stewart's dad welded them for me. I was too young and stupid to see what I was getting into. Besides admiration, I had needs that I never had before, gas money etc. Car ownership wasn't character building. It was the worship of a false God and it was destructive. The need to keep the wheels turning drove my ethics through the floor.

In retrospect, I became as bullying, as Jim and Geoff. I sponged off of friends and was verbally abusive to those closest to me. I felt victimized even when I was victimizing others. Grade eleven marched on. At Christmas, I wrote and produced a parody of Dragnet. that was very successful. The acclaim I got went straight to my head. Then, in the Spring of '54 a life-changing event took place. H.O. English, the principal of the Victoria Normal School came to speak to us. He explained that there was a great need for teachers. A light went on. I could actually get paid for inflicting myself on students the way my teachers appeared to be inflicting themselves on me. My career choice was made. Then, the damn car quit! Investigation showed that by removing the muffler I had managed to crack all the exhaust valves, My classmate, Keith Lawrence had a 1936 Chevrolet coupe he had crashed and bent up a fender. It was for sale. I promptly sold my bike and gave Keith a down payment. The rest would come from working at Vantreights that Summer. Little did I know that I was headed straight for hell in a hand basket.

The first inkling of doom came when stepfather Jim who was selling freezer packages at the time opened a store, Allservice Victoria Appliances, in a run-down storefront on Cook Street. He and his partner stocked it with long-time discarded inventory from a large hardware store that was cleaning house, getting rid of its accumulated junk. Well, he needed an appliance mechanic. So, I was it. He told Geoff Vantreight that I was through and Informed me that I was to work in the store for free. Sybil saw he paid for my lunch and travel. Two incidents among many illustrate the disaster I brought on myself with the "new"car I could not afford. One evening, I took 2 friends up Mount Douglas. Halfway up, the car stalled and I decided to ride it backwards downhill. I didn't make it. The car rolled on its side and was towed home by a friendly farmer. A used fender and door was put on at home and I was off again. Then, one evening, playing follow the leader up Kenmore Avenue, I got T-boned at the intersection of Torquay and ended up upside down. That was the end of the car. My mother directed Jim to settle matters with Mr. Lawrence. He came back saying that the matter was settled. She assumed payment had been made. I don't know what went on between the two men.But I got the feeling from Keith that he felt I had cheated him. The wreckage of the car, however, sat derelict at the local service station for several years.

There I was a free appliance "mechanic" without wheels. The poor customers never knew the inadequacies of the person messing with their stuff. Jim, meanwhile, ruled the roost over what was not much more than a junk shop. Certainly much of the stock salvaged from the basement of the hardware store belonged in a museum. Every morning, he left me to open up while he wandered up Cook Street to Hilda Lewis's Coffee Shop. Hilda Lewis and her husband Bill had been "friends" of Jim and Sybil since we lived on Shakespeare Street. Hilda had caught Jim's eye from the beginning and he had stayed at Lewis's when a particularly violent outburst had seen him leave home for a time. So, Jim took the opportunity to renew acquaintances while basking in the warm glow of his new found position as "business owner". Around noon he would return and abuse me about the apparent lack of productivity and then would proceed to tear a strip of my mother when she, volunteering as receptionist made reasonable business decisions in his absence. To tell the truth, her presence cramped his style with Hilda Lewis.

In the summer I had been playing softball in the Saanich Parks League. With all the rocks I had hit on the farm, I had become a reasonable player. Still, I was the guy chosen last. I was never first pick. So, when the opportunity presented itself, I became the coach of the Majestic Park team. I understood the game well and I got to make the lineup. I now got to play regularly. There are advantages in running the show.

At the end of the summer, Sybil put pressure on my stepfather to buy me another Model A for $70. I immediately damaged the engine by running it without water. Still, it remained usable. So, I returned to Mount Douglas for Grade 12 with the Model A. leaving behind my derelict first car and the damaged remains of a 1936 Chevrolet Coupe. All stood as evidence of the devastation wreaked by me in less than a year. At school, I, once again, wrote and produced a parody. This time Dragnet met Romeo and Juliet. It was a success. I also played the lead in the school's operetta, "The Enchanted Emerald". Then, I was asked to spearhead the Douglas House entry into the House Concert. Blinded by my apparent celebrity, I reached too far and bombed spectacularly in front of the whole school. In doing so, I victimized others who had trusted me. Another example of my flawed character was working as advertising manager of the school annual. I liked the position but not the work. So, I didn't sell any advertising. I usually bit off more than I could chew and then I failed miserably in chewing what I had bitten off. The consequences were humiliating.

Still, I was the top student in a class that had a reputation of being rebellious and unteachable. The, principal, Eric Forster sought to punish us by forcing everyone to write the Provincial Exams. I knew I had the right to be recommended and so did my mother, who was active in the Parent-Teacher Association. I got recommended. In response, Eric Forster refused to present me with the Scholarship Award and instead I was enshrined as "1955: No Award". I did get a token PTA award as best student. Still, I slid out of Mount Doug under a cloud. Disheartened, I was late filing my application to Normal School.