Nelson is gone!

Mel Torme and Friends; Recorded Live At Marty's, New York City

One Wednesday morning in the spring of 2001, I went out the door of my apartment to get in my Durango to pick up my friend Shawn. He had drifted from the snow-clad hills of South Dakota to attend a convention in the Washington, DC, area and wanted to wind down for a few days afterward before heading back to the "other" Sunshine State. I locked the door to my apartment and headed toward the direction of my truck. Guess what. No Durango.

NO DURANGO!!!

I stood stock still for thirty seconds or so, trying desperately to make sure that I had thought through everything. When had I last driven it? Had I parked it somewhere else and just forgotten? Had I parked it where I shouldn’t have and did a towing service come and take it away? I answered all of these questions and others in such a way that led me to suspect the worst: Someone had abducted Nelson!

I called the police and they arrived in five minutes. I called my friend James F. and he arrived in two minutes. I gave the officer all of the information he needed and he assured me that he would do all that he could. He also told me that stolen cars don’t turn up very often. I called my friend A.D. and asked him if his car had been stolen. “No.” Well, I told him, that makes one of us.

An auto rental facility just across the road from my apartment complex set me up with a boss set of wheels within an hour after discovering the theft of my truck. So, I hit the road to pick up Shawn. The days flew by while my friend was here. But, all during his visit, I tried to remember what of my own stuff had been in the truck and wondered whether I would see it again.

On the last day of Shawn’s visit, I got the call. They found Nelson! They told me when and where I could pick him up. What a celebration dinner we had that night! I took Shawn to the airport the next day. And after some friends had dropped me off at the vehicle reclaim agency, I saw that Nelson looked pretty tough. And he had a nice big gouge in the radiator. He had to be towed back to Annapolis; poor little guy.

After ten days at a couple of car spas, he looked as handsome and operated as good as he ever did. The stuff, though, was gone; some sheet music, a couple of CD’s and a microphone.

Nelson’s abductors had no taste in music. They never bothered to listen to the CD in the CD player. They had set the radio to some acid rock station with the volume pumped all the way up. But I consider that a gift. Why? They didn’t bother to check if the CD player had a CD in it. It did.

Of all of my Mel Torme CD’s, I like “Mel Torme and Friends” the best. He recorded it live at Marty’s Nightclub in New York City in June of 1980. The musicianship, all the way around, from each of his combo players to his “friends”, and especially the “Velvet Fog” himself, is absolutely first rate. Mr. Torme can scat with the best of them. I’ve always felt that Mel sat second chair only to The First Lady of Song, herself, Ms. Ella Fitzgerald. On the last track, “Love For Sale”, Mr. Torme cracks me up with a chorus of scat in Yiddish. “Splee-bee-yiddle-dah-ohhtundeee voyl”. I was grateful that it didn't get stolen.

How did they find my car? The Einsteins that stole my truck had ripped the license plate off. That’s right, poor Nelson was driving around naked without his South Dakota “Great Faces/Great Places” license plate. They tore off the famous Marine Corps bumper sticker from the back window. They relieved themselves of the little sticker that reminded me when to get the oil checked. Why they never bothered to strip off the vehicle identifying

Department of Defense sticker

in the

middle of the windshield

will confound me until Jesus comes. When the police found Nelson, the Einsteins had installed The Club on the steering wheel. I just don’t know what to say to that.

Credits: To the men and women who serve on our nation’s police forces. Thank you for finding my truck.