Shot at 2007-04-04
Hello! I am a 1964 Dodge 330 4-door sedan, VIN 4142216364, my name is The Goldeneagle. This site was created by my owner Wendy C. Allen of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, to save my life.I am the main character of the original Twighlight Manor book, and a major supporting character of more that 30 other books and short stories by Maine author Wendy C. Allen.I started out in life as a silver undercover Police car in Maine. In 1975 I retired from my job as a police car and was sent to Marcot Motors of Old Orchard Beach, Maine, where I was painted gold by some fool with a paint brush. He totally ruined my lovely silver paint job and left me streaked with brush lines. I was only there a few months before I was bought by the Allen family, who sanded me down and painted a lovely shade of metalic orange.I remained the faithful family chauffer for the next ten years. Together we drove on many roadtrips throughout the NorthEast. In 1978, I took them to New York where we croosed the Brooklen Bridge during it’s major repair construction. That same year we went to Washington D.C. I took the Allen family to Arcadia in Bar Harbor to see The Thunder Hole in 1981. Every year I drove them to New Hampshire where we visited The Old Man on the Mountain and Story Land and The Swift River. Three times I climbed Mt. Washington.
I’ve brought home puppies and baby chickens. I waited in hospital parking lots and veterinary clinics. I remained forever and always a faithful friend. The only friend who was always there, steadfast and unmoveble, silent and unjudgmental. My red plush seats always there like a shoulder to cry on when no one else would lend and ear or a shoulder. I alone remained to one true friend, the only friend to the child who loved me and defend me when no one else would put up with my break downs and failrues.
Over the years I grew old and tired, my engine weak and my transmission failing. My last trip was a desperate trip to the hospital, one dark and stormy night in 1985 when a hurrican flooded the town, sending the Atlantic Ocean over the Peir and up Maine Street. My last trip came when abulances could ride faster than my Mopar engine and Mrs Allen had to be rushed to the hostpital at 3AM. We speed through Old Orchard fatser than ever before, through hurrican floods that went higher than my door panels seeping water into my interior and flooding my floors, filling my transmission and engine with icy salt water, we made it to the hospital with Mrs. Allen, but I did not make it back home on my own and was towed home by a friend’s little VW Rabbit.
In spite of my loyalty, with a dead trasmission and an engine full of salt, I was usless, and parked in the yard, put up for sale for junk.
I was rescued from a trip to the junk yard in 1985 by 9 year old, Wendy C. Allen, after my trans died. Since 1985 I have remained a decoration on the hill in her rose garden, where she sits in my seats or on my hood to write the stories in which I appear. Without me, she can not write these stories for I am the one that inspires them. I have been happy in my life of peace and rest here in Old Orchard Beach these past 30 years. That has now changed.
New town ordinances and zoning laws have been set in Old Orchard Beach. As a result the police, the code enforments officers, and the town manager are now in attempt to see my death and destruction, with threats of stealing me from my rightful owner and sending me to become scrap metal in the junk yard.
This is an outrage! They well not listen to reason.
My profile now comes to you to spread the word and ask for your help in saveing my life. An entire network of websites devoted to my plight are now in the works and links to them well be added here within the next few hours.
Please join the protest and put an end to the Old Orchard Beach reign of terror. Old Orchard Beach is a town not a dynasty, they have no right to take me from my home and kill me!
PLEASE DON’T LET THEM KILL ME!!!!!
To read more, please visit my profile: http://www.myspace.com/savethegoldeneagle
Shot at 2007-04-04
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Find me on MySpace and be my friend!
obvesously you have no idea what this man (The Old Orchard Beach Town Manager… and his town counceil a group of some 30 more people, most of which also church members) did to us. If you had read the links in this post you would know the whole story as well as the criminal investigation that is now underway as a result of what they did not only to our family but to over 25 other families on out street as well:
Here however is a brief summary of what they did to us:
<p>We suffered a flood/fire that destroied everything and left us homeless. It also left my dad in a coma, leaving our family of 7 without an income. We lost our house, our cloths, everything. All we had left was what we were wearing when it happened.</p>
<p>We turned to family who due to regilgious convictions said that “god was punishing us” and they than refused to help us because they “would not get in the way of god’s plan”; they continued by saying that “god intended man to be self-sufficiant”, meaning that we had to help ourselves. sheesh. our friends (of the same religon) said the same. We went to the bishop for help, and was given this same answer yet again.</p>
<p>In the end, we stuck out Maine’s 2006 record breaking sub-zero winter, by living for 8 months in a “tent” we built out of a tarp and some cinderblocks. We kept warm during the day by staying in the Main Mall from 9 AM to 10PM. We ate about 4 meals per week at the Salvation Army (they don’t serve food every day). The rest of the days were spent in search of wood, leaves, and paper that we could burn at night to keep warm.</p>
<p>Thankfully, 2 months in, I was able to get a job at the Mall, and was able to afford to buy enough food so we could eat every day again.</p>
<p>Our time was spent mostly trying to find scraps of food to eat and anything we could burn to keep warm. Never once did we “panhandle” or “beg for money”. Belive me, when you are starving and cold, money is the farthest thing from your mind. I know. All of your time is spent worrying how many days (not hours, but days) it’ll be before your next meal, or worrying that the snow will collapse your tent while you are asleep. </p>
<p>Being homeless is very, very scary, you worry about not living to see tommorow more than anything else.</p>
<p>You learn to pick trash for food, and to pick up bottles and cans to turn in for money to buy food.</p>
<p>Also, you have to deal with a lot of stuck up snobby people throwing things at you (rocks and tin cans mostly), tearing your tent apart while you are away so that you have to keep rebuilding it, and wild animals attacking you at night. (fishers, martans, bobcat, and bear, in our case)</p>
<p>Also, you lose lots of weight (I lost 30 lbs) and you get used to walking miles and miles a day.</p>
<p>You learn that asking to take a shower at a friends house is taboo, and so must go month after month without washing… best you can do is to wash your face in the restroom of a store, but don’t keep going to the same store or they’ll call the police on you.</p>
<p>You also learn that not taking a shower well cause people to tease you, throw things at you, and go around saying bad things about you to every one.</p>
<p>You well feel unloved, unwanted, hated, and become deeply depressed. There well be nights when you lay awake staring at the blackness of the tarp above you and wishing tonights snowstorm will collapse it on you and smother you in your sleep so that you won’t have to wake up and suffer another day in this world where humans you once called family and friend are now your worst enimeies and hate you, simplyy because you no longer have a house to live in.</p>
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