I remember when I was a kid that my father was always selling something out of his car. Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall my father always had something to sell. When we visited family and friends, they would joke and call him the traveling salesman - I just called him dad.
My dad would take me with him to pick up his weekly deals. We'd drive down the West Side highway on Saturday mornings to his "friends" storage units and we'd shop. Usually he would go inside as I waited in the car. But I really looked forward to the times when I got to go inside the large storage warehouse. We'd have to wait (what seemed like forever) to get the old creaky elevator to the floor where we'd meet his friend. Sometimes we'd even drive further downtown and go shopping at storefronts or friends basements and always leave with the car fully stocked. I rarely knew what he was buying unless it was something he thought I'd be interested in. The inventory usually consisted of clothing (which was my favorite) but once in a while there were things for the home, like pots and pans or holiday items.
When my parents and I would visit family or friends, they'd tell everyone that "the salesman" was coming. My father felt happy and alive as the trunk of his car emptied out. Of course he'd always give the family discount (which took away from his profit) but he loved doing it and didn't care. When anyone would ask my father where he got the merchandise, he'd laugh it off and simply say "it fell off a truck." It wasn't till years later that I found out what that meant, but it didn't really matter to me. All I knew was that I enjoyed shopping with my dad and all the excitement that surrounded it. I still love to shop and I know a bargain when I see it thanks to my dad.
I'll always be a New Yorker thanks to my New York memories... And I have a lot of them... "And that's nyc2vin."