FABLE OFFERED ON MINIMUM PROPERTY STANDARDS

A jogging acquaintance taught me an interesting lesson about minimum property standards.

He could have given Aesop -- you know, the guy who was good with fables and morals -- a nice run for his money.

It began innocently enough, as do most columns. We were walking around the Abe Stuber Track and Field Complex and I noticed he (Al, not Aesop) had a new silver car glistening in the parking lot.

"Say Al," I said, "Did you just buy a new car or did you just wash the silver bullet with a little soap and elbow grease?"

"Oh no, that's a '94 Grand Marquis," said Al, looking quite proud of the fact.

"But now, you say you didn't buy a new car and yet I'm almost certain the last time I saw you on this very track you drove up in a '92 Grand Marquis," I said.

"Yes indeed," said Al, obviously enjoying my look of befuddlement.

"So you did buy a new car."

"No, you see I was in an accident and my insurance company made sure I got this rental," said Al.

"Oh, the claims adjuster did a great job setting it all up. It started out with me getting a Taurus, but then lo and behold, suddenly they realize that they just had a Grand Marquis turned in. They ask me if I would be willing to wait while they spank the dust off, but I say, nah, I'll take it the way it is. The keys are handed over to me after some paperwork is finished and I'm on my way."

"Great," I said. "While your car is being fixed, you get to put wear and tear on someone else's car. And you don't even have to pay for it. Well, maybe you'll have to deal with the deductible. But you should still come out way ahead because you get to drive this baby for an entire month, right?"

Al said, "Better than that. I don't even have to pay for anything. The insurance company representing the guy who hit me is taking care of the whole thing."

Maybe, just maybe, they're worried about the injury Al's wife sustained to her neck during the accident. So let me get this straight, I said. You've got a freebie for an entire month while your car is on the mend.

"Now you've got it," said Al.

There's just one problem, however. It seems when the car was handed over to Al, it was dirty inside. But Al needed to get to Michigan yesterday. So he decided to take the car as it was.

"I couldn't believe it," said Al. "A friend of mine said I should have just left the car the way it was and then return it in the same condition."

Yeah, sure. Who would be hurt? The company had to clean the car anyway. Why not trash it a little while your car is getting fixed. So what did you do? I wondered aloud.

"I said no way," said Al. "If I'm going to drive this for a month, I want to feel good about the car I'm driving. So I cleaned it up the very day I got it.

"I'm sorry," he added, "but I come from a generation where you took pride in property, no matter if you owned it or not. In fact, if you borrowed something, like say a shovel, you took even better care of it than if it was your own because you didn't want to feel embarrassed when you gave it back."

This sounded plausible enough. But the car was a rental. Al didn't know the folks who handed it over to him. Nor was he particularly close to the insurance people who set the deal up. Seems it didn't matter how he handled the car.

But here's where his character came to the forefront. Al was going to feel good about the manner in which he handled the car and himself long after the transaction was over.

"I couldn't believe it when I got in the car for the first time," said Al. "There was a cigarette burn on the seat and it smelled like maybe somebody partied just a little too much. They either got sick or spilled something that just wouldn't go away. So I cleaned it up and it looks and smells pretty good."

It sure does. No, I'm not talking about the exterior or the interior of Al's rental. I'm referring to the stuff that makes Al feel good when he looks at himself in the mirror every day. It seems someone taught him about minimum property standards a long time ago. He didn't need any laws to force him into doing the right thing.

Now I wonder if this very story, fable, or whatever it is, could be applied to housing in Cape Girardeau. Maybe, just maybe, there's a moral to this tale.

Could be only Aesop and Al know for sure.

Bill Heitland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.