Becoming Murray Kimler

Murray Kimler owned the beauty parlor next to my father's tailor shop in the Bronx. He was a very nice man and very accommodating.

In the summer of 1948 our two families rented houses in Long Beach, Long Island. I was too young to drive then and once in a while Murray gave me a lift to the beach. It was nice of him but torture for me because Murray drove in the right lane of the Grand Central Parkway at exactly 35 miles an hour. That was the the speed limit, of course, and, just as now no one drove at the speed limit, except Murray.

Back then my father cruised that highway at about 50 miles an hour along with the other traffic. So sitting alongside Murray driving to Long Beach was gut-wrenching. I still remember those drives when today 65 is the new 35. (Today's drivers would thank heaven if they could go 35 mph on the Grand Central.)

I'm telling you this because recently my wife and I were driving locally when she asked me if I was doing a “Murray.” She was right. I was dawdling along in the right lane as traffic zipped by.

Jolted to the present, I started driving normally while giving a mental shout out to the late, if not very late, Murray Kimler.