Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Open 'til Midnight, 364 days a year

I still remember seeing those words stuck on the double glass doors of the Tower Records on Sports Arena Blvd, etched into a corner of my mind, marking a significant part of my childhood in San Diego. The Tower Records building stood across the street from the aging San Diego Sports Arena for as long as I could remember, and became the centerpiece of my short life as a young adult in Southern California. There really wasn't much to do back then as an underage teenager except pile into my 1981 Ford Fairmont Station Wagon (with column shifted 3-speed automatic backing the 90HP 3.3L 12 valve straight six) and make the arduous 20-minute journey northwest from suburban Paradise Hills, with the weekly ten dollar allowance burning a prodigous hole in my pocket... Back then, LPs cost seven bucks (if I was lucky) and cassettes were somewhat cheaper. My memory fails me, as I eschewed those crappy plastic boxes of ferro-magnetic tape for the ultra-chic and higher audio-quality 12" vinyl record. (That I subsequently transferred to tape anyways)

Although I'm guilty of not buying anything from Tower for what seems like years now, hearing the news last week that they were closing their doors for the last time, I couldn't help but reminisce of those times long since gone, of a place that was such a part of my life...

...Back in high school, I had this thing about wanting to drive as many cars as I could. Maestro2b wasn't keen on driving back then, so I had the pleasure of piloting his 4-door Chrysler Reliant K-car to Tower one day. If you're familiar with the parking layout, there are 2 spaces out front that are parallel to the sidewalk, lined by tall steel yellow poles (I guess so you park straight?) Backing out of one of these spots, I really wasn't paying attention, cranked the steering wheel to the right, and heard this loud bang. Turns out that one of those big yellow poles felt the need to crush the driver side fender of Bryan's car. Red-faced and utterly shamed for years to come, I hesitated to drive his car from that point forth...

...I used to attend CCD back in high school, requirement for all good Catholics to receive their Sacrament of Confirmation. Frustrated at the thought of having to spend a few hours out of my precious weeknights listening to nuns and deacons teach us about the power of the Holy Trinity, I chose to flee the scene on several occassions, convincing my godsister and a couple of friends to come with on a trip to Tower. One of these nights was a rainy night, and back then I was your typical teenage driver: speed and tailgating (although many would argue that I haven't shaken these habits). My typical approach to Tower involved approaching from Sports Arena Blvd and taking a left onto Kemper street. Around this time, the horn on my trusty station wagon wasn't working very well, and would make this weak and barely audible "bleeeeehhhhhh" noise. So anyways, we were sitting there at the light behind this old orange Toyota Corolla. I see the reverse lights come on, and so I panic...I lay on the horn (and in that old Ford, they had this weird design where you push in the turn signal stalk to blow the horn -- crazy ergonomics) and slamn the column shifter in reverse. But I was frozen, not letting my foot off the brake to back the car up. Needless to say, she barrelled into my beloved station wagon, climbing the steel bumper and cracking the plastic grill. It seemed to all happen in slow motion, and I couldn't figure out why my stupid foot was pressing the brake pedal so hard instead of moving to the accelerator pedal and backing up the wagon. I had a great time explaining that one to my parents...

...There was a short point during high school when I hung out with a totally different set of friends; one of them owned an old Pontiac Grand Prix equipped with a small block V8. One night he and a friend decided to make a trip out to Tower, bringing me along. I'll never forget that night, for the simple feeling of that moment he slammed the throttle on the Plaza Blvd. onramp to 805 North. I was leaning forward at the time, and it literally threw me back into the seat. We were doing a hundred in no time flat. The funny thing is, I have never felt that kind of torque since. Not in the 300hp '91 300ZX turbo that I was to test drive years later, nor the 302 c.i. Mustang GT that I rented for prom that year. There really is something to be said about old muscle cars... So anyways, we show up at Tower, run around the store lookin' for things to buy, and return to the car. The driver says to us, "I'm never coming back there". "I think they saw me steal that cassette on video". He had shoplifted Body Count's album (the one that had "Copkiller" on it). Nice. Oh yeah, and I hear that album's a collector's item now...

I've made that Tower trek so many times through the years, I can still picture the route...Woodman St and then a right turn onto 52W (where you could practice your 0-60 sprint), then catch the 805N connector, then up and over the freeway on 94W, then that long right hand downhill sweeper to 5N, then Pacific Highway as it crosses over through an S-curve and barrels down near the airport (a great stretch for nailing the throttle), then left hand exit onto Midway Dr, a poorly maintained and pothole stricken road, past the pizza place on the right with the bigger than life pizzas, past the post office on the left (open 'til Midnight!), then right turn onto Kemper... I know that times change, things move on, and all good things must come to an end. Still, it'll be sad to drive by the corner of Kemper St. & Sports Arena Blvd. the next time I'm in San Diego and not see that big yellow sign with the big red letters.

So does anyone remember which day Tower was closed?

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1 Comments:

At 10/17/2006 11:27 PM, Blogger DJ John said...

I went to one on a Thanksgiving night and I went to one on a Christmas night I think. I don't remember going on a New Year's Day.

 

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