Rat F “Inked”

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Very few people who grew up in the 1950s and 1960s had tattoos. Although my father had been in the Army, he never had the desire to get one, nor did any of the men in my mother’s family who had gone to war. Bikers, sailors and beatniks of that era were what was called “inked,” but I don’t remember ever having seen a genuine tattoo on someone until the mid-to-late 1960s when the hippie culture, feminism and the civil rights movement encouraged self-expression and challenging traditional values.

I wasn’t a big fan of rock, but I do remember that Janis Joplin had a small heart inked on her breast and a wristlet inked on her lower left arm. George and Ringo had small tattoos, as did members of the Rolling Stones, but not so many, or any large enough, as to define them, as later did Maroon 5’s Adam Levine, Miley Cyrus, Ed Sheeran and Tommy Lee of Mötley Crüe.

My mother had always thought that piercings and tattoos were worn by members of the lower classes, so before I became a thinking person at the age of 17 or so, my cultural biases aligned with those of my parents, despite the fact they both smoke, drank and behaved in ways that I would have frowned on in my early life, especially since my father was at times verbally abusive to my mother when he was drinking.

My entry into the world of tattoos happened at the age of 14 through a character originally created by Ed “Big Daddy” Roth, an enormously talented  designer and illustrator who created some of the most outlandish and imaginative hot rods of the 1960s. It was an era dominated by George Barris, Gene Winfield and Roth, who were lauded by rodders and film companies who hired them to build “Kustom Kars,” as they were termed, that were stylish and often bizarre. Elvis Presley and Dean Martin owned Barris-modified Cadillacs. Sonny and Cher purchased his and her 1966 Ford Mustangs, while Ann-Margret, Bob Hope, Bing Crosby and Glen Campbell had Barris novelty golf carts. Barris also created the iconic cars for The Munsters and the Batman series while Ed Roth’s Surfite surf buggy appeared in films starring Frankie Avalon, Annette Funicello, Beau Bridges and Tommy Kirk.

Copies of Rat Fink, a disgusting green, pimpled character surrounded by sweat and flies were seen everywhere, including in tattoos on the arms, legs, shoulders and chests of hot rodders of every age. In 1963, at the age of 16, I began to achieve a bit of local notoriety for my ability to simulate Roth’s style, using it as a model for my own interpretations enameled onto trunks of cars, fenders and dashboards of teenagers I knew from school and my neighborhood. They would either trade me for parts and labor to keep my ’52 Plymouth running, or pay me what they could in cash for my gas, insurance and car inspections.

All of my customers were my age or older, and few had much money to spend, but they would be inspired to use what they had seen me do on the cars of others, or in pencil drawings I created in class, to have their own “kustomized”  signatures applied to their cars.

During this period I met Ava, a girlfriend of a good-looking young man named Brent Langly. He was a member of the conservative trend in school and dressed mostly in black. Brent lived in Drexel Hill, a wealthy neighborhood of Upper Darby Township, and was fully engaged in “kustom kulture.“ He also hired me to paint a “Rat Fink in Love” emblem, featuring Ava’s name inside a heart, on the deck of his jacked-up, metallic green, 1957 Ford. Ava had blue-black hair that extended past her waist. She was edgy, but bright, and used few words when describing just about anything.

She was at Brent’s side when I applied the paint to the Ford’s trunk, and smiled when I tried to say something clever, always answering me respectfully and enthusiastically questioning me about my craft. To my mind, she was flawless, and I learned later from her that she was named by her father, who the year before she was born had seen the film The Killers, featuring Ava Gardner, and hoped his daughter would be as lovely as the actress. To my mind, she was just as attractive, elusive, mysterious, and unknowable.

In class, Ava always asked intelligent questions, but was also able to navigate the nuances of schoolgirl chatter. She could devastate a challenger with a look or a short retort, or embrace someone with a smile and a sympathetic phrase that revealed her understanding of a classmate’s plight. As a girlfriend, she catered to Brent’s need for reassurance and embraced every interest he took up, from basketball and billiards, to cars and drag racing.

I was no threat to Brent. I was a poor boy who got mediocre grades and had a bit of talent. Brent liked me because I never challenged him. He also liked me because Ava was kind to me. So whether it was pizza at Pica’s on West Chester Pike, or a dance at the Chez Vous Ballroom near 69th Street, I was invited to join him and Ava.

In my role, I knew better than to ever try to hit on Ava, since she not only was Brent’s steady, but was also far out of my league. She could have been 25 or 30 years old, instead of 17, and she displayed confidence with every toss of her dark mane and her every wink, smile, and laugh.

In private moments, Brent would talk to me about her and let me know that she saw herself headed to Penn after graduation. Her SATs and her GPA assured her entrance to any school, and her parents were well-off enough to assist her financially. She seemed oblivious to the attention paid to her, as she continually amazed her teachers, and could bring any boy or man to his knees if he crossed an unspoken line with her. And that included Brent, but rarely me.

The more I was around her, the more I fell in love with her. Until one Monday when she walked into the biology class we shared, and I saw on her left arm a Rat Fink tattoo visible just below the short sleeve of the black T-shirt she was wearing. What most other boys in class first noticed was how her nipples were defined beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, while I was startled by the inked image of the Rat Fink extending nearly three inches down Ava’s upper arm.

I tried to believe that it was somehow a joke, a rub-off tattoo, or one applied with water-based paint. But then she looked over at me, winked and smiled as if we’d achieved some sort of a bonding between us.

What I actually felt was sadness, that her physical beauty was no longer flawless, but ruined by the Rat Fink inked into her flesh.

I paid even less attention than usual to the lesson, and tried to avoid looking over at her while reasoning with myself. After class, she approached me and tried to engage me in conversation. I clumsily sputtered something about a pre-class meeting with my English teacher, but she insisted on speaking to me about a dance at her church the following Saturday night.

“What about Brent?” I asked.

“It’s over between us,” she said matter-of-factly, not mentioning the Rat Fink tattoo on her arm. “Brent and I realized that although we live in the same geographic world and go to the same high school, we truly live in different worlds.”

As we continued down the hallway, I told Ava that I had seen Brent just the day before, and that he hadn’t mentioned anything about a breakup between them.

“That’s because I was the one who broke it off,” she responded.

I then figured that I had to address the tattoo on her arm, and asked, “Was the breakup before or after you had the Rat Fink inked onto your arm?”

Ava smiled at me and turned to provide me with a better view of the tattoo.

“After,“ she said. “I had been thinking about getting inked for some time, and realized that a design inspired by you and Big Daddy was a way to better express myself without words.“

I attempted a smile and said, “That’s a pretty courageous  statement, especially for a girl.”

“I guess it is. But I believe I have opinions that I can’t always voice, and the Rat Fink cartoon sets me apart from the other girls, and is more akin to the person I really am inside.”

I couldn’t comprehend her answer, since she always seemed distinctive to me. “How’s the reaction been to it so far?” I asked.

“Mixed. My parents hate it. Among my friends it’s a toss-up between those who know me well, and those who see me as a girl struggling to find my identity.

“What do you think of it?” she asked.

I knew this question was coming, but I was still surprised when she finally asked it.

“I’m happy that I inspired you, but I must say, it’s a bit of a shock to see it on you.”

Ava looked concerned as she said, “That’s not quite the response I had hoped for,“ as she looked down toward the tattoo on her arm.

“I figured that you, of all people, would understand. Unlike me, you have your own identity and way of expressing yourself.”

Still not knowing how to address the tattoo, I lied. “I think it’s great Ava... and I’d love to attend the dance with you next Saturday.” 

Ava smiled and reached over and gave me a peck on the cheek. “I’m looking forward to introducing you to some of my friends from Haverford.”

At that point we went different directions to our next classes, but I watched her from behind as she hurried quickly away. She was lovely, and she obviously was interested in me. But I also knew I had to talk with Brent about the breakup. It didn’t take long for me to catch up with him since he and I were both in the same next class, Advanced Biology. He was a straight “A” student and I had just managed to scoot by with a “C” the previous semester.

We arrived at the classroom door at nearly the same time, with him just few steps ahead of me. I reached up and grabbed his right shoulder from the rear, at first shocking him. But after noticing it was me, he smiled and placed his other arm around both my shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Ava lately?” I asked. 

“No, not since yesterday,“ he responded. “Why?”

“Then you’ve seen her tattoo?”

“Yeah. That was quite a surprise.”

“Well, I just saw her and she said that the two of you broke up. Was it because of the tattoo?”

“No. She’d been pulling away for some time. I couldn’t figure it out. And then she got that tattoo and told me we were through.

“The breakup wasn’t a surprise, but the tattoo was, and I asked her about it. But her answer didn’t make any sense.“

“Did you comment on it?” I asked.

Sure! Who wouldn’t? I guess I’ll need you to paint over her name in the heart on my trunk lid... when I get another girlfriend,” Brent said sarcastically.

“You’re not upset by the breakup?”

“Not really. The tattoo thing is somewhat laughable. She seems to think that it will make her seem more assertive.

“She’s a hot and beautiful girl, but a bit high-maintenance for me.”

Class was ready to start and Brent seemed totally fine. I’d found out what I needed to know but was surprised that Brent wasn’t burdened by any emotional loss or upset.

I, on the other hand, who had difficulty in concentrating on biology on my best day, was caught in a whirlwind of emotion. The girl who I idolized had chosen to mar her perfect body for me, inspired by a character I’d painted on her boyfriend’s car. She then had just approached me as a possible replacement for him, since I seemed to understand her better than he did and, according to her, better than most others she knew.

I had a  problem processing her deliberately adding the Rat Fink ink to her arm, when what I was most attracted to about her was her flawless body and physical perfection.

At the end of the school day I walked home the back way through Upper Darby Park to the trolley tracks that lead to the shopping district just two streets away from my parents’ apartment. I couldn’t get Ava off my mind, the girl with whom I had fallen in love, as opposed to the Ava now tarnished by what seemed an irreversible and definable act.

Unfortunately for me, they were two different girls. For the first time in my life I realized how shallow it was of me to deprecate a person whom I thought I loved dearly, simply by the application of ink inscribed onto an arm. She hadn’t become disabled, and she remained beautiful. She just chose to express herself in a way that mistook my love for cars and my inclinations towards art as an answer to her own personal dilemma.

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I picked Ava up at her home in Drexel Hill that Saturday night and we attended the dance at St. Faith’s Church in Havertown. Ava seemed happy to be with me, and expressed pleasure introducing me and speaking about the art business I was developing after school. I was more reserved than usual and a bit confused, since every once in a while I’d catch a glimpse of the Ava I’d lost with the application of her tattoo.

She, on the other hand, appeared pleased with the results, and although it was not yet spring, she showed  off her tattoo by wearing a short-sleeved blouse. The responses from her church friends varied, but not one of them seemed as negatively affected as I was by the intrusiveness of the Rat Fink image on her arm. Ava never revealed to me the extent to which she and Brent had ventured sexually in their relationship, but I assumed it had been consummated, since Brent appeared far more worldly than I, and Ava more adventurous than most other girls I knew at school. They had also been dating for a year, and rumors and assumptions were made by most who knew them.

After the dance, Ava suggested that we drive to Reed Road in Broomall and “park.” I had at one point driven along the road that led to the county incinerator plant, but had never had the opportunity to use the road as a make-out destination. It seemed too soon for such an intimate step in our relationship, but I was excited by the prospects of the offer and followed Ava’s lead.

The road was long, poorly lit and lined with cars that Saturday night. And as we approached an open parking space, I was for the moment able to leave my tattoo bias behind me. I was not going to let either my better judgment or my prejudices get in the way of any form of sexual initiation with Ava.

And Ava didn’t disappoint. She apparently had gained prowess in her role as a seductress, and had come prepared with protection as she took me on a journey past first and second base, to finish quickly at home plate. She kissed me briefly after we buttoned and zipped up, and we drove in silence back to her home. 

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I wasn’t sure what to say to her about her gift. I felt guilty and embarrassed by my role in the adventure. And then on Monday we saw each other in class. Ava was friendly, but not especially affectionate. I wasn’t sure whether to thank her or what to do, since she didn’t acknowledge or address our brief encounter.

Later in the day she grabbed my arm and drew me near her when we passed in the hall. “I figured that I was your first one. Now you’ll have something to remember me by.“

I wasn’t sure I had heard her correctly, but said, “Thank you. I will.”

Ava and I never dated again, or developed any kind of interpersonal relationship. I remained close with Brent and his friends, and I would see her talking with girls I didn’t know, and also occasionally a guy. 

Not being much of a student, and having little money for college, I decided in my last semester of high school to apply to Temple Technical Institute in downtown Philadelphia.  I only decided on a major in Mechanical Engineering Technology at the last moment, selecting it over Architecture, since I was consumed at that point in my life by cars, having not yet realized that I enjoyed the design of vehicles more than the mechanics.

I traveled to Temple on Septa’s Market-Frankford elevated line, reachable by only a short walk from my parents’ apartment. The El descended underground at 46th Street, and I transferred to the Broad Street Subway at 15th and Market, arriving at Foster Hall in North Philadelphia where most of my classes were held. I still hung out with the kids from my old neighborhood, and I was assigned a co-op job in the summer of 1966 at the Stein Seal Company, located on Indiana Avenue in North Philly.

Except for Brent and a couple of friends from high school, I lost contact with most others I knew from school while growing up.

I never spoke to anyone about Ava. I had a few brief relationships during my years at Temple, but none ever resulted in consummation or had an impact on me as much as Ava did. Though it was memorable mostly because I lost my virginity to her, I was most affected by her boldness, character and the dignity she displayed during the short time I knew her.

I’d heard from Brent that Ava had been accepted at the University of Pennsylvania, but heard nothing more until four years after I graduated from Temple Tech. I was working as a draftsman at the Clifton Precision Company in Drexel Hill, and dating a woman I had met in a theatrical group at the church I attended in Upper Darby. I had upgraded my ride from the old Plymouth inherited from my grandfather to a sky blue 1966 MG convertible with a white detachable hardtop.

Heading home to my parents’ apartment one afternoon, I’d stopped at a red light at Garrett Road and Lansdowne Avenue when I spotted a woman dressed in a business suit and high heels crossing the trolley tracks and heading eastward in  a hurry. She looked like Ava, but her hair was less than shoulder length, and I couldn’t be sure if it was she. The car behind me beeped, and instead of turning left, I went straight and pulled over to the curb.

After confirming that it was Ava, I rolled the window down and announced myself. My assertiveness must have scared her, and she jumped back slightly towards the grassy area behind the sidewalk. Once she recognized me, she collected herself and smiled awkwardly.

“Can I give you a lift?” I asked.

She paused and then said, “Sure. I’m headed to the Middle School and I’m late for a meeting.”

I looked at my watch and saw it was 5:30. “Pretty late for a meeting, isn’t it?” I said.

“This meeting’s a special one. It’s the only time the parents of one of my students could meet. They both work and they have three other kids.”

“You’re a teacher?” I asked.

“8th and 9th grade biology,“ she answered.

“I went to Beverly Hills,” I said. “You probably went to the newer junior high in Drexel Hill.”

“I did,” she answered as she straightened her skirt after settling into the low passenger seat.

I noticed that she was even more attractive than she was when I knew her in high school. My eyes went directly to the left arm facing me which was covered by her business suit jacket. 

Surprisingly, looking over at her profile, I was no longer bothered by the thought of the tattoo, thinking instead of the lifelong bond we shared.

Ava asked me what I was doing for a living, and I told her a bit about my job, and the difficulties I had with it. “I make lots of errors which the people who check my work have to fix. I know now that I’m not well suited for the engineering field.”

She then asked if I still sketched and painted. I told her I did and that I hoped to one day make a living with my art.

“And you’re enjoying the teaching profession? ”I asked.

“Not really, but it’s a job, until I get my Master’s Degree in Biochemistry.“

“From Penn?” I asked.

“Yes,” Ava said with a smile. “It’s where I got my undergraduate degree. I have my thesis to write, and then, hopefully, I’ll be able to find a job in industry.

“It’s where the future is. I’m still living at home until then.”

I wasn’t sure where to take the conversation next, so I asked if she had a boyfriend.

“I don’t really have time for that,“ she said. “But I do get hit on a lot by the male teachers at the Middle School. Most of them are married, and I remind them of the fact.“

Then Ava broached the subject of our one and only date.

“I liked you. You knew, didn’t you?” she said. “I looked like I had confidence, but inside I was terribly insecure. Brent took advantage of my weaknesses. I knew I was pretty, and so did he. So he got everything he needed from me.”

Ava continued, “You were different. You were shy, or something else. You didn’t want anything from me, but I knew you liked me. So I got the tattoo. It was a foolish thing to do, but I believed it would irritate Brent, and then he didn’t even seem to notice.

“I’m not sure about any of my reasons for doing anything I did back then, or what I expected, but I still have the tattoo... will most likely always have it.”

I interrupted her there. “You knew that I didn’t like it?”

“The moment I saw your face, I knew I made a mistake.“

“But you still invited me to the dance.”

“I did. And I knew that you’d never forget me.”

“And I haven’t.“

“So, we’ll leave it that way,“ she said as we approached the school.

“I can’t ask you out? Or maybe we can just be friends.“

“No,” she declared quite positively. “It’s perfect the way it ended.

“By the way, thank you for the ride. I really hope you launch a great career in art. You deserve it. You’re one of the good guys.”

I pulled up to the curb and watched her exit. She had grown into a lovely woman, and I knew she’d succeed at whatever she chose to do. I also knew that I’d remember this moment forever. There are no “What ifs” in life, I thought, just memories that sometimes fade into the background while others remain indelible in our hearts, or souls.

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