to drive a stick shift! The club was "Candilejas" on Sunset Boulevard and Normandie Avenue on the easterly fringe of Hollywood, and I could walk there from my apartment on Normandie Avenue. It was for one or two nights a week, Friday or Saturday as I recall.

Oh, that stick shift thing . . . nope, nothing really bad happened (I can see all of you, drooling, wanting to hear how J. Eric backed the Porsche into the concrete wall - did not happen). I may have just ground a few transmissions down, ahhh well, there was a decent tranny repair shop down on Santa Monica Boulevard. I left after a few weeks - not fired - forgot just how/why I "separated" from the job - most likely because I'd picked up some other small-time job for the same time period or that paid enough so I could exit my Valet Career.