Boring.
Going to the ATV races on Saturday, taking our younger daughter with me. Just finished boring her to tears with old dirt bike stories from my youth. Went off on a tangent, my first real job. When I was thirteen I gave up the paper route, got a job at the Exxon station down the corner by my house. They still had the Esso sign on the garage, I remember when it was Esso. All the cool guys in the neighborhood worked there. Vito had the hottest car around, 1966 Nova, a real hot rod. It was fast, had a peace sign painted on the hood, metal flake paint. Ernie and Chip built a real fast '69 Chevelle, jacked up with traction bars, Crager's and big chrome side pipes. Vito's was lower. Vito's uncle lived next door to me, he had a cousin who lived on the other side of town, I was friends with him too.
Chip broke his leg real bad, got hit by a car when he was in junior high school so he walked with a limp, he was a good mechanic. Years later, after the army when I was a cop, I ran into Ernie. We rode together sometimes. Weekend blasts on the Harleys, Ernie's was a total custom, built it himself. Every winter he'd tear it down to the frame, the bike was nice. Ran into Chip one day, I was in the radio car, he told me to come down to the dealership where he was working turning wrenches. He said we should go have a beer, hang out. I never did, I should have.
Those were good guys, hard working guys. I was just "The Kid" and they were the cool older guys. They let me hang out with them, teased me like older brothers. I miss those guys. Wish I'd gone into the auto mechanic field, probably would have enjoyed that.
After about a half hour of telling my daughter about "the good ol' days", she looks at me like her ears are gonna start bleeding. Ask her if I'm boring her, she smiles real sweet, said no. She gives me a big hug, tells me that she loves me. Said she had some things to do, started picking up and putting away her stuff that's always laying around the living room. Now you know it's bad when your ten year old would rather do chores than suffer through any more story time. I have to go clean the parrot perch, do some dishes and get ready for work. My wife is coming down to the dock at lunchtime tonight, gonna tailgate in the Jeep, have a date.
Chip broke his leg real bad, got hit by a car when he was in junior high school so he walked with a limp, he was a good mechanic. Years later, after the army when I was a cop, I ran into Ernie. We rode together sometimes. Weekend blasts on the Harleys, Ernie's was a total custom, built it himself. Every winter he'd tear it down to the frame, the bike was nice. Ran into Chip one day, I was in the radio car, he told me to come down to the dealership where he was working turning wrenches. He said we should go have a beer, hang out. I never did, I should have.
Those were good guys, hard working guys. I was just "The Kid" and they were the cool older guys. They let me hang out with them, teased me like older brothers. I miss those guys. Wish I'd gone into the auto mechanic field, probably would have enjoyed that.
After about a half hour of telling my daughter about "the good ol' days", she looks at me like her ears are gonna start bleeding. Ask her if I'm boring her, she smiles real sweet, said no. She gives me a big hug, tells me that she loves me. Said she had some things to do, started picking up and putting away her stuff that's always laying around the living room. Now you know it's bad when your ten year old would rather do chores than suffer through any more story time. I have to go clean the parrot perch, do some dishes and get ready for work. My wife is coming down to the dock at lunchtime tonight, gonna tailgate in the Jeep, have a date.
posted by Squarehead at 11:23 AM
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