I was saddened to hear today that my old friend and fellow Car Man, Ron Jacobi, died recently. I first met Ron back in 1976 when I went to work at Hayward Datsun. We worked together on and off for the next dozen years or so.
I’m not going into a big thing about Ron. You would have to have known him to appreciate him. Suffices to say he was a warm and funny guy and like most Car Men—a little nutty.
Ron had a little quirk. Well, actually he had a lot of quirks, but this is the one I want to tell you about. You would be talking to him about something. The conversation would end and later in the day, or maybe even a couple of days later, he would come up to you and begin talking about the subject right where he left it off without missing a beat.
This was always strange, because for a few seconds you would have no idea what he was talking about. Ron did this all the time. He just assumed that if he knew what he was talking about you should too. And if you stopped to inquire what the hell he was talking about he’d look at you like you were crazy!
Another thing Ron would do: He’d start talking to you the moment he saw you. He might be thirty feet away and you may not even know he’s there, so by the time he got to you he’d be half way through a story, and you wouldn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about. He did things like this so often I coined the phrase, “pulling a Jacobi”.
Over the last thirty years I have accused dozens of people of pulling a Jacobi. I’ve done it so often it’s become second nature to me. My mechanic, Tim, does it all the time and each time he does it I say, “You just pulled a Jacobi”. Now the saying has a new meaning for me. It’s kind of a verbal memorial to a great guy.
So the next time someone does something like this to you, try and remember Ron Jacobi. Tell them, “Hey, you just pulled a Jacobi!” You’ll be honoring a great Car Man. A guy you would have honored to call a friend.
Talk to you later,
David
1 comment:
One thing about R.J. was that he was very serious about his appearance. A long time ago, during the disco era, it was a minor fad to wear a small gold ingot around one's neck. R.J. was strutting around the friendly confines of Hayward Datsun one day, making sure that everyone had a chance to admire his fashion choice. Then we stood in the up area, eyeing each other, he waiting for a comment, me pretending to ignore his disco medallion. Suddenly he reached for the corners of both lapels and snapped them out! I had to acknowledge such a bold move, so I complimented him on his jewelry choice. He was satisfied.
Post a Comment