Hello from the Cadillac with the Tiger in it
Part 4: Fun Facts about the Cadillac
• My Year, Make & Model: 1978 Cadillac Sedan Deville
• My name: "the Cadillac"
• The Tiger's name: "Tiger"
• Engine: 425 8 cylinder
• Mpg: City 10-12 Highway: 18-20
• Color: Pistachio Green w/White Vinyl roof
• Mileage: Approximately 450,000 (odometer stopped working at 207,362 about 20 years ago) This is almost the distance to and from the earth and the moon.
• Purchased in 1992 for $450
• Current owner is the 3rd owner
• All mechanical equipment has been replaced at least once except the engine and timing chain
• 1st came to East 2nd Street in 1992 when the black locust trees bloom in the cemetery
• Most memorable road trip moment: Crossing the state line into Alabama while my owner sang the line from Neil Young's song, "Alabama": "...Your Cadillac has got a wheel in the ditch and a wheel on the track..." until his cat pawed him in the face to get him to shut up
• Estimated number of photos taken of me by passersby each week: 350-650
• Most mysterious photographer: A woman who took one photo of me every day for a year and then she vanished
• The Tiger decided to get a gold leash when the Lorde song, “Royals,” was released.
• Vandalism damage to car while parked on East 2nd Street 1992 to 2011: $0
• Vandalism damage to car while parked on East 2nd Street 2011 to present: $1,900
• Vandalism damage since the tiger has been in the front seat: $0
• Date of retirement: Today. The black locust trees bloomed two weeks ago.
More startling perhaps was what the data showed about full-service restaurants and watering holes. In 2004, there were 248 food-services and drinking places in Alphabet City. By 2012, that number had ballooned to 514, significantly outpacing any other kind of business and increasing these businesses’ area "market share" to 32 percent.
Yet, Alphabet City’s number of bars has actually fluctuated, from 24 in 2004, up to a high of 80 in 2008, and back down to 59 in 2012. Meanwhile, full-service restaurants have simply exploded, from 175 in 2004 to 380 in 2012.
The data also added some weight to claims that city planners under former Mayor Bloomberg targeted the East Village as a "destination neighborhood" for tourists. This is a view with which Stacey Sutton — a Columbia urban planning professor and mentor to the students who did the report — somewhat agrees. A 2012 report prepared for CB3 by Mary de Stefano, the board’s former planning fellow, reached a similar conclusion about the former mayor's intentions.
The area’s food-services and drinking places drew in a hefty $200 million in 2012, according to the report. These were also far and away the area’s chief employers among types of businesses studied, with more than 6,100 workers, up from more than 5,200 in 2006.
Stories from the Cadillac With the Tiger in it: Part 3: The End is Near
OK people — you have until tomorrow to say goodbye to me and the tiger.
It was too long of a winter. I'm tired. I'm done. But I'm going out on my own terms. After I smell the sweet fragrance of the black locust trees in the cemetery one last time.
I made it but other neighbors haven't been so lucky. Pete and Sandy used to keep an eye on me while they were living in their car. Pete is in his late 60s and he was born and raised on East 2nd Street. They were the supers in the building down the block for several decades until the new building owner kicked them out and had marshals confiscate their personal effects from the basement.
They lived in their car for a year after that turning down offers of housing in other boroughs. "Why are you doing that?" everyone asked Pete. "Because I live on this block" Pete would say "and I want to remind the new owner of my building of that fact."
You know what? That's the real reason I've stayed around as long as I have. It started when the newcomers started complaining about my presence and I was vandalized by the weekend partygoers. My owner and I decided I would be a reminder — a big middle finger to all that's gone on here.
Twice a week in the morning my owner starts me up with a roar to move me for the street sweeper. On the few occasions he drives me to the gas station we pass everyone on their way to work — drawing smiles and "thumbs-up's" from the local old-timers and gasps and looks of disdain from most of the white collar professionals.
To the old-timers, I'm a relic and a connection to the old neighborhood — a survivor.
To the newcomers, I'm an eyesore and nuisance. I don't fit in with the new demographics and people are coming after me. I still can't figure out who called the four fire trucks and three cop cars who surrounded me late Easter Eve/early Easter morning.
Most little kids like me, especially since the tiger took up residence in my front seat. (Although some well-heeled moms will tug the arms of their kids and pull them away from me if they show too much interest.)
And I sure am popular with the tourists. (If I had a buck for each photo taken of me, I could be restored mechanically and cosmetically from top to bottom!)
My owner doesn't mind them taking photos as long as the tourists are not too obnoxious.
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All in all, it's been a good long ride — and I"m finally ready to go. But, where do I go, who do I go to?
My owner put up a "for sale" sign in my window last year to gauge interest and, while he got a few responses, there were only three serious offers.
One guy from Bleecker Street who said he was a mechanic for years has no place to store me.
Another fellow from Avenue D said he's been walking past me the entire 22 years I've been on East 2nd Street. He said that he wants to park me on his block so he can look out his window every day and see me. He also wants me to accompany him every Wednesday when he picks up groceries from the supermarket with his meager extra cash to deliver to the homeless shelters on Bowery. (What's left of them anyway). He does this weekly run because he said a young priest helped him out at one of those missions in the 1960s when he was a former Gold Gloves boxer turned junkie. The priest helped him get clean and he never forgot that favor.
And then there's Ernest. He's been hounding my owner ever since he saw the "for sale" sign my owner put in my window. He's young and works as a custodian at the school on the corner. He claims he has a spot in a garage for me in either Brooklyn or the Bronx and wants to take his time and restore me. Ernest has been saving up each week so he can give my owner about $500 for me.
So who's it going to be? Well, my owner is going to surprise Ernest and give me to him for free. I'm OK with that. Ernest said he's going to take good care of me and the tiger. And who knows, if he follows through and does a good job on me, maybe someday I'll come back to my block.
So that's what's happening, folks! Hurry up and say your good-byes. My owner is having a little farewell gathering for me on the block tomorrow from noon until 3 p.m. between First Avenue and Second Avenue. All of my local admirers should stop by — maybe take a photo and drop a buck or two in the bucket for Ernest's restoration project of me.
Until then, I'm going to smell those black locust trees and get ready for my big farewell!
