When Edna Mendavey was on uppers—which, like most Beverly Hills matrons, was every afternoon—she had a tendency to play demolition derby while parallel parking her Rolls-Royce in Beverly Hills. The Mendaveys had matching Rolls-Royces: hers white, his black. Over the years, Edna Mendavey did incredible damage to her own Rolls’s grille and trunk. But the devastation Edna wreaked on other automobiles was awesome. The extent of the maiming and mangling depended upon the automobile’s make. For instance, a BMW stood up to Edna’s bashing fairly well. A Honda or Toyota, on the other hand, usually had its grille or trunk in an extreme concave state when Theresa’s mother had finished parking. The damage was frequently irreparable.

And finally let us not forget Edna Mendavey’s trips to Paris to see what the couturiers were showing and to England for her antique auctions. The net result: Edna Mendavey wasn’t home very much. And when she was she had very little time for anything that might be important to her daughter Theresa.

Theresa’s father wasn’t much better at staying home. Hector Mendavey was a very busy man. He was building his already large conglomerate into a mammoth conglomerate. He spent a good deal of time attending stockholders’ meetings in various cities and at dog and pony shows to raise millions of dollars his companies didn’t need. He traveled to other parts of the world to chair meetings or partake in an occasional hostile takeover or two. He also took monthly trips to Vail to ski and Las Vegas to gamble. Consequently, Hector Mendavey was almost never home, which resulted in his having less time than his wife (if that were possible) for their daughter Theresa.

On the extremely rare occasions when Mr. Mendavey decided to spend an evening at the mansion in Manderville Canyon, suffice it to say the last object he expected to see parked in his driveway when he returned from his office was a Triumph Bonneville motorcycle. And the last person he anticipated seeing comfortably ensconced in his favorite armchair was the Triumph Bonneville’s owner.

Theresa Mendavey’s new boyfriend, Rex Redmond, was seventeen. He had tattoos on his arms, earrings dangling from his ear-lobes, and a Triumph Bonneville. The motorcycle was a gift from Rex’s older brother Dave after Dave put it down on Pacific Coast Highway. Rex Redmond, a mechanic at heart, had worked on the Bonneville day and night for weeks, mending and painting it until it looked brand-new.

If Theresa’s father had taken the time to be civil and chat with his young daughter’s new boyfriend Rex Redmond, Mr. Mendavey would have found the lad to be a rather intelligent and gentle young man. But Theresa’s father had neither the time nor the inclination. Instead, Mr. Mendavey lashed out at the biker on sight, screaming profanities and demeaning accusations that deeply tarnished Mr. Redmond’s character and good name. Mendavey concluded his tirade by shouting, “You are never to step foot in this house again. Is that clear?”