Vehicles Anonymous Meets Every Monday at 8PM...

Once we bought the house, lots of things changed radically.  First off, we couldn’t use our place as a stash anymore...  After all, we lived there.  Second, regardless of being secluded (which it really was), or driveway that went out of sight (which it did), or drive-through garage (which it had), or anything else, we had to maintain an image with the realization that we weren’t just moving on in a few months.  It wasn’t ‘What the hell, who cares, they’ll never know what happened here until it’s too late anyway.’   We were on the hook, so to speak, for the foreseeable future.  And this ushered in the era of house-sitting employees, additional rentals, new equipment sets for each place, etc. 

On one level, nothing changed much.  We still were renting secluded homes in very nice neighborhoods.  We were still taking in loads whenever the opportunity arose.  The network continued to grow, now expanding well beyond the New York area.  We were shipping to Idaho, Washington and the entire northwest, Kentucky, Ohio and the midwest, Buffalo continued to soak up whatever we sent, and we didn’t even have to touch the stuff that went north to Canada.  Just a phone call would get it to where it had to be and all we had to do was count.  What could be better, huh? 

Well, on another level, more people in the fold meant we needed additional insulation wherever possible.  After all, we had a house to protect and, as time went on, a ‘normal’ taxpayer reputation to live up to.  And this brings the tale back to PJ.  He had the accountant that fixed us up to buy the house but he had lots and lots more than an accountant.  One thing that was always troublesome, were the cars and trucks.  No matter how we sliced it, if a load got busted, the car was going to be traced back to someone somewhere.  NadaMucho used his parents to drive a humongous Buick.  We were always looking for the 'average' looking guy or, better yet, family that would take a leisurely drive up the coast for a grand.   We had bought Caddies and Chryslers and Dusters and other cars but in the end, we had to title them and insure them and it was a very weak link in the situation.  Any half-assed investigator could run a registration and find our vitals in about five minutes (this was pre-digital).  To this point, our luck had held but it was definitely time to stop depending on luck.

Unless, of course, your last name was Pfeiffer, and in which case, you simply didn't give a shit...  You had cash in your pocket?  You went out and bought a top of the line Caddy, totally pimped out, in your own name...  and screw anyone who cares about it.

So one day, PJ shows up on my driveway in a shiny brand new Chevy Caprice Classic...  This car was absolute perfection from my perspective.  It was a common family sedan, low key, unassuming all-American car with a very very large trunk.

So I ask PJ what’s the scoop and he just smiles and says he paid all cash and tosses the registration on my kitchen table.  I look and see that this car is registered to nobody I know.  I ask PJ who is he paying to own the car and he just smiles and beckons me to go outside with him.  Even in those days, we were hesitant to talk about serious things indoors.  The saying went, ‘If you want to read it in the newspaper, say it over your home phone or talk about it in your house.’  So I walk outside with him and learn that he’s ‘got a guy’ who can deliver brand new anonymous cars, any make or model, any set of options...  literally anything you wanted...  fully insured, registered, plated, ready to go...  for a reasonable add-on price tag.  You want a Chevy?  a Jaguar?  Plymouth Duster?  Caddy?  Benz?  No problem at all.  Just bring the dough when you want a car and the car shows up within a week or so.  My world is changing once again-and while it felt a little out of control, how do you stop something like this once it gets going?  My scene had taken on a life of its own.

Before too long, we were buying Chevys like candy.  I met the guy, developed a nice rapport and eventually turned him on to Marvin who started buying a car a week for about 6 months.  Eventually, by chance, we noticed that he was re-using phony IDs but it wasn’t all that important.  Once these cars were in use, it was nothing to fill one up, leave it somewhere, and just turn over the keys to the other guy.  He'd take the car, empty it, bring it back, and everyone was smooth.  Nobody knew where the stuff went and everybody had a car to use.  I'd drop off a carful to Marvin...  He'd give me the keys to an empty...  I'd go fill it up...  etc etc...  until I happened to look in the glovebox one day and realized that the car guy had been reusing his IDs.  We had bought more cars than he had IDs for.  And he had a connection at the DMV so this obviously went higher and deeper than I wanted to know.

In any event, the key was to be able to walk away from a car without having it lead to you.  Like everyone else, in those days, this guy was a totally legitimate luxury car guy.  If you wanted to lease a Bentley, he could arrange it.  Porsche?  No problemo.  He didn't hide or work out of a back room.  His showroom was one of the biggest wide open glass fronted luxury car places in Great Neck.  Everybody knew this guy but they didn't have a clue what went on behind the scenes.

Oh...  speaking of not talking about serious things indoors, we had taken to talking in ridiculous codes, even on the phone.  Pounds were ‘little baskets’ (aka LBs), other items and amounts were called paintings, 2x4s, tiles, chairs, tables, you name it.  The one thing you could always be sure of was that nobody ever meant what they said...  until that one time... 

I get a page from Big Al from Red Hook, go to the local payphone, and call his local payphone...  He tells me to meet him at his warehouse to check out some ‘radios’.  My eyes roll because I know that Big Al (previously described here), wants in on the bigger end of pot distribution and has been trying for a while to make it happen.  Of course I agree to go see him since his ‘friends’ are doing lots of stuff in Miami and elsewhere.  John the Beak and John the Dope are in town and seem to have lots of product so this might actually be something.  I pick up a buddy, show up at his warehouse and he walks us to a big Ryder truck that’s parked off in a dark corner.  ‘Wait till youse see dis stuff!’  he says, all excited.  And when we’re behind the truck, he calls over one of his guys, and up goes the rear sliding door...  opening on a truck filled, top to bottom, side to side, end to end with....  RADIOS!!!  The guy knew a guy who knew a guy who ‘might have’ hijacked a truck filled with radios.  It took a few minutes but I spent every second of those minutes explaining to Big Al that were weren’t really criminals, just pot dealers...  which was, of course, unimaginable to him.  ‘Youse is either in the biz or not!’  was his angry attitude.  Until I told him I’d front him 10 pounds off the top of the next primo batch I saw.

And nobody got hurt....