Somerset, Kentucky. Perhaps he got this matchbook when he had a flat or a breakdown, and cooled his heels for a while in the waiting room of Allen & Godby. I know that room – spare, tiled, smelling of cigarettes, lubricants, Go-Jo, and those pine-scented air fresheners with the laughing blonde on the display. A combination of aromas unique to the 20th century, I think. There was a radio in the service bays, and no one paid it much attention. It was just something to have on, pass the time, announce the hour. (You didn't really listen to the radio, you just had it around, like a dog.) There weren't any magazines to read in the waiting room. The only reading material was a well-thumbed catalog of filters and belts, and a phone book. It made him think of the first time he'd been a kid in another town, looking up his own name in the phone book. And there it was. That had seemed so thrilling, so odd, like he had a double living a secret life. Later he learned there were people with his name in nearly every town. Common name, after all. They shared nothing else. Put them all in one room, and the Joes would resent the Josephs, who'd act pally with the Joes to show they were regular guys too, even though they'd taken the version of the name prefered by undertakers. And the Joeys would hang in the back and sneer and laugh and make fun of them both -

Car's ready? Great. Thanks.

The matchbook isn’t the best custom job; the letters jump around, but who cares. The phone number is odd; never seen a number listed like that. The slogan on the spine does not rhyme as well as the makers think it does, and the picture on the back is a great disappointment to those who were expecting cheesecake.

Around this time there was a Godby in Somerset who ran a refrigeration company; did he go in with Allen – an Army buddy, maybe, a fellow Elk – and open a service station? The location was good – 27 and the Truck Road – but the car business is different than the refrigeration business. So many more things to stock; so many more things to fix. More trouble than it’s worth, maybe. Perhaps Allen got the joint in the end.

The matriarch of the Somerset Godbys died two weeks before this page was put up.

What brought Joe to Kentucky? We’ve the rest of the year to find out.

this is a work of fiction. c. 2005 j. lileks. / joe home / lileks.com home