Exploiting Hollywood 1980

I called Aunt Karen to report my plan, and then drove the Volkswagen across America back.

Ronald began to say goodbye to his good friends in Los Angeles, leaving their contact information for future contact.

First was Cameron, who was now half-living in the factory. A group of stunt model makers who were more experienced than him were being directed around by him.

But looking at their expressions, they were still convinced. Cameron impressed them with his professional ability and dedication.

Ronald asked him for his email address and phone number. However, people in the film industry often move, or stay with the crew for a long time, so they had to ask for the address of their hometown. If they lost contact, they didn't have to worry about it. They could still connect.

"Oh, I didn't know you were Canadian." Ronald was surprised.

"Yes, my hometown is on the other side of Niagara Falls. It's very close to America."

Then it was Gail. She was still busy in the president's office as usual.

"Gail Anne Hurd... Palm Springs, California." Ronald also wrote down Gail's address.

You may have to stay in New York for four years, so don't lose important old friends.

"Have you been to Palm Springs?" Gail asked him.

"I haven't been there yet, but I just know there's a golf tournament there."

"You're welcome to visit my home if you have the chance. All the best, Ronald."

Palm Springs is a famous holiday resort in California, an oasis in the desert with many springs and unique scenery. All the people who live there are rich.

"All the best, Gail. Mr. Coleman is going to the crew today, please say goodbye to him for me." The two hugged and said goodbye to each other.

Then it was Demi Moore. This girl is a little unusual, maybe there will be a director who appreciates her.

Ronald didn't go to his boyfriend's apartment to meet, but called her.

"Hi. Demi, this is Ronald, I'm moving to New York to go to college, please leave me an address and we'll keep in touch."

"Oh, Ronald, okay. ... West Hollywood." Demi Moore reported the address of her boyfriend's rented apartment.

"You know what? I'm writing songs for my boyfriend Freddy now. He said my lyrics are good. Maybe you'll hear my songs on the charts in the future."

"Really? I didn't expect you to have a talent for writing lyrics. Maybe I'll hear them on the radio in the future."

"Hehe. Ronald, don't you want to be a director? Why don't you stay in Hollywood? Go to New York, where people are making movies?"

"Yes, there are people making movies in New York. I'm going to study film at New York University soon, and I'll have a chance to come to Hollywood in the future."

"All the best, Ronald. Don't forget me when you become a director in the future."

"No, Demi. All the best for you too."

Then Ronald sold the TV and went to the post office to register the mail forwarding address for the next 6 months.

In the next 6 months, any mail sent to his rental address in Venice will be automatically forwarded by the post office to his aunt Karen's house in Stanton.

Finally, after finishing the chores, Ronald took the cash and promissory notes, packed the luggage bag his aunt gave him, and prepared to leave the next day.

This luggage bag was still a relic of his uncle Steve who died in the Vietnam battlefield. It was very sturdy. It can hold a lot of things, and can be carried by hand or on the back.

"Ding... Ding."

Ronald, who set off at 7 o'clock in the morning, queued at the gas station for half an hour, but the refueling line was still moving. He could only honk the horn and ask the brother in the car next to him.

"What's going on? Why is there such a long line at the gas station?"

"Today, we will implement the odd-even rationing for refueling. Today is the 15th, and only cars with odd numbers can refuel."

"Shxt, I have an even number." Ronald cursed inwardly.

The political crisis in Persia is getting worse and worse, demonstrations organized by various forces are happening one after another, oil exports are stagnant, international oil prices are soaring, and gasoline prices are also getting higher and higher.

I didn't expect that California has already implemented odd-even restrictions for refueling. I heard from the brother next door that the government did this during the oil crisis in 1973.

Ronald is ready to turn the steering wheel, find a hotel to stay for one night, and set off tomorrow.

"Hey, if you have extra money, there is a way to jump the queue." The brother next door secretly told Ronald.

"What can I do? I was planning to leave town today, so it would be great if I could refuel."

"As long as you buy a bottle of additives," the elder brother gave Ronald some popular science.

It turns out that as early as the oil crisis six years ago, the then president ordered a gasoline price limit. The American people have invented a hidden rule.

If you need to jump the queue, you can drive in from the maintenance and repair entrance of the gas station, pretend to buy a bottle of gasoline additives, and the gas station will help you fill it up. It is a common practice for the people to circumvent the price limit.

"Oh, thank you, man. But why don't you go?"

"Hey, a bottle of additives costs 5.9 yuan, and you have to tip the repairman. I don't care. The boss won't do anything to me if I'm late for work."

Ronald knew that if it can be solved with money, it is not a big problem. He turned a corner and entered the maintenance entrance of the gas station.

"I'll buy a bottle of gasoline additives, and then help me fill up the tank." Ronald said the lines taught by his elder brother.

It really works. The repairman quickly took a bottle of additives and handed Ronald a separate refueling gun. They were all equipment prepared during the last oil crisis.

Ronald smiled and handed over a dollar tip.

"Where is the bathroom? I'll go first."

After a while, Ronald came out of the bathroom and saw the mechanic pouring additives into the fuel tank.

"Hey, hey, I don't need that, just come on."

Maybe the tip made the mechanic overly enthusiastic and he had already finished adding the additives.

Ronald, who had no time to stop him, took the gas gun and filled the gas tank himself.

"You don't add additives, why buy them?" the technician asked with gestures.

"Hey, it turns out you don't understand the unspoken rules better than I do." Ronald saw the mechanic's immature face. He turned out to be a Latino and spoke with a thick Spanish accent.

He waved his hand and stepped on the accelerator, drove the car out of the maintenance area, expressed his gratitude to the brother who gave the advice, and then got on the road and drove forward.

Instead of taking Highway 40, Ronald planned to take the northern route to Yosemite National Park and experience the beauty of the northern state.

Ronald turned onto Highway 1, which is a coastal road with beautiful scenery along the way. There are elephant seals and ancient castles that look very historical. The scenery is dazzling.

The most beautiful thing may be the beach. The beaches here are all private properties and are known as the most beautiful on the west coast of America.

Outside the mansions, there are white beaches. On some beaches, there are horses pacing, and the various charming hostesses make people stop.

While driving and admiring the scenery, Ronald drove very slowly without realizing it, and did not drive 5 miles in half an hour. It was an uphill climb, and Ronald stepped on the gas.

The car began to gasp and shake, not knowing what was going on. It seemed that something was wrong the further I drove it, and black smoke began to come out of the exhaust pipe.

Just as the car drove in front of a beach mansion, Ronald shouted to the hostess through the fence, "Madam! Where is the machine repair shop nearby?"

The hostess, who was wearing a red one-piece bathing suit, turned her head and expressed her dissatisfaction with Ronald calling her ma'am.

She raised her arm and pointed to a small fork on the opposite side of the road. Ronald quickly turned the steering wheel and slowly drove over in low gear.

"What did you put in the gas tank?" the young white mechanic asked Ronald.

"I've never added anything other than gasoline... Oh, no, the gas station gave me a bottle of additive this morning."

"Additive? Is the bottle still there?"

"Here", Ronald hurriedly found the empty bottle in the car, there was still a little bit left in it.

"Dieselselfuese" the mechanic pointed at the words on the bottle and looked at Ronald, "This is for diesel."

"Shxt, that bastard at the gas station must not know English."

The mechanic smelled the liquid again and said, "It doesn't seem to be the smell of diesel additives. I don't know what's in it. It's an old bottle filled with other stuff."

Is this intentional? No wonder I put it in the gas tank while I was in the bathroom. What's the difference between that little bastard and those people who scatter nails on the ground for you to patch tires?

This is pure highway robbery.

"The combustion chamber is damaged, and the carbon deposits are a bit serious. I'm afraid it will require major surgery." said the older mechanic next to him, who looked like he was the young man's father.

"How long will it take and how much will it cost?"

"This requires a machine repair station, and you have to queue for a day. It's not cheap, it'll cost you $300."

"$300? This is highway robbery. I only bought this car for $900."

The young mechanic shrugged and said there was nothing he could do.

"Or you can sell me this car and I'll pay you 400 yuan." My father, the mechanic, said.

"500?"

"450."

Okay, just 450, but you have to send me back to Los Angeles.