Letterman at the DMV

I was only David Letterman’s neighbor for a year.  When I say neighbor I mean we lived in the same corner of the same small town. We lived on different roads.  Mine hit a dead-end at his. His house was a couple of miles from mine but to get from mine to his you passed at most two dozen houses. If that. So, I called him neighbor. Well, only to others. I never spoke to him.

During the time I lived in New Canaan, Connecticut, David Letterman was plagued by an uninvited guest on several occasions. I am fairly sure I spotted the woman walking down my road probably the best route from the train station to his house. It was rare for anyone but a jogger to pass by my house on foot, so I recall seeing a lone woman charging up the country road on a lovely Saturday. But, I didn’t think too much about her that morning, Later that day, she would appear on most US new outlets. In the meantime, I had to go to the DMV. Turns out David Letterman did too.

Letterman often drove up and down my road going to and from town. In town, I saw him at the Mobile station or, most frequently and most ironically, at the Post Office. (Reminder, his name was Letterman.)  His everyday car appeared to be a midnight blue Porsche 911, but I confirmed at the DMV that he also had two Ferraris. Different models I am told. I just knew they were both red. And to think I worried that I was extravagant buying duplicate t-shirts. 

To understand what happened next, you’ll need an idea of what my car looked like. I had moved from New York City bringing with me a car that was appropriate for parking overnight on an Upper West Side street. Read appropriate as old and scratched with fading paint and a missing left rear window. If I had felt any embarrassment about driving it in Connecticut, I could have passed the old Datsun off as my station car. That never became necessary only because I don’t embarrass easily. 

Back in the 1980s the nearest DMV to New Canaan was located in an old house in Norwalk. There was no parking lot, so I found a spot on the street. I was in line in the DMV when David Letterman came in with his assistant. I noticed, finished up whatever I was doing and left.

Back on the street, I was surprised to see that my car was parked between two Ferraris. A red Ferrari in front. A red Ferrari in back. We had four Ferraris in our town. One yellow. One blue. Two red. I’d been told the red ones belonged to Letterman. That was verified when he came out right behind me. 

I didn’t notice him until he was standing by the car in front of mine looking at paperwork that I guessed he pulled from the glove compartment. Or, wanted me to think he pulled from the glove compartment. He made quite a show of checking out some documents. 

My thought? He was keeping an eye on his cars and the owner of the disreputable vehicle that threatened them. I guess if I’d parked half a million dollars worth of powerful Italian driving machinery on the street, I would have done the same thing. 

While it’s good to have a neighbor with his own talk show (they keep you up-to-date on what’s going on in the neighborhood), there is a downside. You never know exactly whom in the neighborhood - or what local car - they might want to discuss. 

But it turned out I didn’t have to worry. I am pretty sure the memory faded quickly when he returned home and found a stranger hiding there.  Fearing for your life trumps fearing for your Ferrari.

© 2023 Jane Kelly