Lessons Learned
I drove a 1987 Honda Prelude. I didn’t pay for it. I think I gave my mom a few hundred dollars so that I felt that I had somehow contributed to the process, but realistically, it was bought for me.
I don’t remember that movie that I was driving to see. I turned the AC on high as we drove past the Gorman exit to keep the dry heat of the desert at bay. The Antelope Valley had that intolerable combination of triple digit weather, and ferocious winds, which in the right circumstance could kick up the dirt in a flurry that could sand the paint off of your car. As I drove under the overpass, the needle indicating the oil temperature spiked within seconds to that dreaded red section on the far right that you disregarded as simply dashboard space filler, a way to keep all the gauges symmetrical. The car rolled silently to a stop on the shoulder.
The towing process was as destructive to the exterior car, as my neglecting to check coolant levels had been to the interior. The second attempt to lash my bumper to my friend’s brother Nick’s truck went far more favorably than the first, which had ended two miles from the point of breakdown, with a broken tow cable that had managed to recoil into, and effectively eviscerate my front right light, and half the grill. It sat in Nick’s driveway for weeks, an eyesore that I still feel sorry for subjecting his wife Irene to.
I had to carpool – something I’ve never liked doing, as my earliest driving years had been spent at the mercy of my twin brother, who, to this date, has never met a departure time he couldn’t blow by with the nonchalance of a Frenchman.
At work, one of the Air Force Sergeants I sat near felt for my predicament, and offered to sell me his old Honda Del Sol, as he was planning on upgrading anyways since he was now a family man. I accepted, and that afternoon, I went with him during our lunch to check the car out. It was exactly what I needed…small, economical, and quick.
“Hey,” I said gesturing to the car as he watched me give it the one over, “would you mind writing the title transfer for a little bit less than the $4000…I’d like to save a little bit on taxes if possible.”
He seemed visibly upset by the fact that I even asked. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m a military man, and if I don’t have my integrity, I have nothing.” He avoided eye contact, disappointed at the idea that I would even consider such a proposal, as if he had failed by not projecting an image that would prevent me from even asking in the first place.
I nodded and said, “No, I understand, I was just trying to save a buck.” I thought I understood.
“I know.” He replied.
Integrity was just a word to a 20 year old young man. It didn’t mean anything yet; an abstract. I was simply trying to save a dollar, and besides, the tax system was unfair so it wasn’t hurting anyone right? I didn’t have an overabundance of money, so I felt I was justified in making such a proposal. Realistically, it’s one of the low points in my adult life. The idea that I tried to manipulate the system, at the expense of my own honesty only started bothering me years later when I began to be hyper aware of people who would game the system, and the fact that I tried to drag him into it with me, only bothers me more. I’ve become impatient with those people who cheat simply because they can. Honestly seems to be something only those with money can afford, the same people who are targeted and slandered as greedy, and forgetting their roots.
I’ve seen people drive up to donation centers in their high end SUVs, supported by custom suspensions and polished rims, so they could collect the food that better people donated. I’ve seen mothers in line pay for their groceries with food stamps, only to run the beer and cigarettes through separately, and pay with cash. What bothers me the most about this kind of behavior, what bothers me the most about any kind of behavior, is the fact that those people who engage in it believe that they’ve done nothing wrong. They believe that no ethical or legal boundaries have been crossed, that they were justified in their behavior, because in some way, at some time, they’ve been wronged, and it was owed them. Once, I tried to get away with the same thing, and it took an honorable Air Force man, who could have easily printed a different number to give a kid a tax break, to show me that some things are worth more than saving a few dollars.

Granted, I don’t want to have a curriculum that is made and dictated by a conglomerate of liberals, just as I don’t want to have a curriculum dictated by a horde of conservatives. The problem I have with liberal academia is the stifling of dissent, and the shutting out of conservatives FOR THEIR POLITICAL BELIEFS. This extends to the other side of the aisle for me. I want to win the war of ideas based on education, not exclusion…that’s a liberal tactic. In this case though, it seems that Erwin has been targeted and removed for his liberal politics by conservatives on the UC Board of Regents. Bad. This means that the state is dictating what a person can and cannot believe, and then hiring him accordingly. First and foremost, Erwin is a good and fair man. Wrong, but fair. Capable…but did I mention wrong? As wrong as he might be, he’s ridiculously qualified to start a fledgling law department at a 

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