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When I was young a popular summer weekend pastime was slowly cruising the remote county roads, typically two track dirt, drinking beer. To the crowd I ran with the difference between a redneck and a good old boy was the redneck threw the empty cans into the roadside ditch. But the good old boy threw them into the bed of his pickup truck.
One of my friends was a tow boat captain on the Illinois river. He worked 6 weeks on the boat then was off for 12 weeks. Most of his off time was spent partying. He bought a WW2 Jeep and fixed it up. One modification was an aftermarket windshield washer kit. The discharge lines were routed under the lower edge of the dashboard with the button just over the outlet. Captain Jim drank whiskey and that is what the windshield washer tank was filled with. He would cruise the backroads with a cooler of ice and a glass. He'd fill the glass with ice, hold it under the dashboard and push the button with his thumb and a stream of Canadian Club would fill the glass. Slick set-up. There were a lot of abandoned rail lines in the area. Captain Jim and my uncle Bill were working on a way to get the old jeep to run on the tracks so they would not be bothered with steering. But my uncle Bill did not make it (later paragraph).
One of my friends, Bobby worked on his dad's dairy farm. He had some spectacular parties. One Independence Day he bought a keg of beer and had some of us over to his place. Got to be about dark and it was decided some pyrotechnics were in order. Roger, one of the guys there had a demolition license. So a few of us piled into Bobby's car, went to Rogers place and he got some dynamite, caps and fuse. Then we went to the Dixie Truck Stop at the intersection of I-55 and US Hwy 136 to buy cigarettes' (the keg was in the trunk). Plan was to blow up an old derelict farmhouse on Bobby's dad's place. On the way out of town there were two girls hitch hiking. We picked them up. They told us about all of the strange experiences they had while hitch hiking. Then one of them asked what we were up to. Bobby said "we're going to blow up a house, want to come along?". On that cue Roger pulled two sticks of dynamite out of the box on his lap and waved them in the girl's faces. They said "Let us out of the car please." which we did. Probably cured them of hitching.
Got to the derelict farm. Roger realized he forgot the special pliers used to crimp the fuse into the blasting cap. He was drunk enough that did not pose a problem, he crimped the fuses with his teeth. I was just sober enough to back away several paces in case he bit down on the wrong part of the blasting cap. Anyway he blew the hell out of the old house. There was a shed there as well. Bobby had climbed on to the shed roof to watch the show and was cheering Roger on. It was real dark by then. Roger says "watch this" (bad thing when beer and dynamite are involved) then took a section of fuse, no cap, no dynamite, lit it and threw it up on the shed roof with Bobby. Bobby had to assume the lit fuse had a cap and dynamite attached so he jumped off the shed roof. Good thing he was drunk because the drop would have hurt a sober man. Still my favorite Independence Day.
My cousin Mike was 4 days younger than me. He quit college and got drafted. Instead of being shipped to Viet Nam like 90% of draftees at that time he spent his gig in Germany baby sitting a missile battery aimed at Russia and partying on weekends. Mike was not afraid of anything and had he gone to Viet Nam I doubt he would have survived so Germany was a stroke of luck. About a month after he got out of the Army he was helping his dad work on a farm tractor. The tractor came off the jack stands and landed on him and that was it. So much for luck. His Dad, my uncle Bill, died in the same shop building a year later.
My brother enlisted into ROTC. Knew he would get drafted so he figured he'd rather be an officer. Liked it so much he stayed long enough to get two stars. Right after he went in he told me he was going to airborne school. I was in college and figured I'd beat him to being the first to jump out of an airplane so I joined the parachute club. Back then tandem jumping did not exist - you were by your lonesome. I made a few jumps. For beginners you exit at 3,000 ft and from there it takes 13 seconds to hit the ground without a chute. My last jump I had a hard ripcord pull. So I grabbed the handle with both hands and gave it a big jerk. That opened the pack and deployed the chute but it also caused me to do a forward roll on to my back while the chute was deploying. Instead of seeing the ground I was looking at blue sky and the parachute streaming out between my legs. Had time enough to think I'm going to die. When the chute inflated it flipped me over backwards into normal position. The chute was fine, I rode it down but my neck has never been the same.
Like I said, random, disjointed anecdotes of the old days. By comparison things have been boring for the last 40 years.
Springsteen's 'Glory Days" is my theme song.
One of my friends was a tow boat captain on the Illinois river. He worked 6 weeks on the boat then was off for 12 weeks. Most of his off time was spent partying. He bought a WW2 Jeep and fixed it up. One modification was an aftermarket windshield washer kit. The discharge lines were routed under the lower edge of the dashboard with the button just over the outlet. Captain Jim drank whiskey and that is what the windshield washer tank was filled with. He would cruise the backroads with a cooler of ice and a glass. He'd fill the glass with ice, hold it under the dashboard and push the button with his thumb and a stream of Canadian Club would fill the glass. Slick set-up. There were a lot of abandoned rail lines in the area. Captain Jim and my uncle Bill were working on a way to get the old jeep to run on the tracks so they would not be bothered with steering. But my uncle Bill did not make it (later paragraph).
One of my friends, Bobby worked on his dad's dairy farm. He had some spectacular parties. One Independence Day he bought a keg of beer and had some of us over to his place. Got to be about dark and it was decided some pyrotechnics were in order. Roger, one of the guys there had a demolition license. So a few of us piled into Bobby's car, went to Rogers place and he got some dynamite, caps and fuse. Then we went to the Dixie Truck Stop at the intersection of I-55 and US Hwy 136 to buy cigarettes' (the keg was in the trunk). Plan was to blow up an old derelict farmhouse on Bobby's dad's place. On the way out of town there were two girls hitch hiking. We picked them up. They told us about all of the strange experiences they had while hitch hiking. Then one of them asked what we were up to. Bobby said "we're going to blow up a house, want to come along?". On that cue Roger pulled two sticks of dynamite out of the box on his lap and waved them in the girl's faces. They said "Let us out of the car please." which we did. Probably cured them of hitching.
Got to the derelict farm. Roger realized he forgot the special pliers used to crimp the fuse into the blasting cap. He was drunk enough that did not pose a problem, he crimped the fuses with his teeth. I was just sober enough to back away several paces in case he bit down on the wrong part of the blasting cap. Anyway he blew the hell out of the old house. There was a shed there as well. Bobby had climbed on to the shed roof to watch the show and was cheering Roger on. It was real dark by then. Roger says "watch this" (bad thing when beer and dynamite are involved) then took a section of fuse, no cap, no dynamite, lit it and threw it up on the shed roof with Bobby. Bobby had to assume the lit fuse had a cap and dynamite attached so he jumped off the shed roof. Good thing he was drunk because the drop would have hurt a sober man. Still my favorite Independence Day.
My cousin Mike was 4 days younger than me. He quit college and got drafted. Instead of being shipped to Viet Nam like 90% of draftees at that time he spent his gig in Germany baby sitting a missile battery aimed at Russia and partying on weekends. Mike was not afraid of anything and had he gone to Viet Nam I doubt he would have survived so Germany was a stroke of luck. About a month after he got out of the Army he was helping his dad work on a farm tractor. The tractor came off the jack stands and landed on him and that was it. So much for luck. His Dad, my uncle Bill, died in the same shop building a year later.
My brother enlisted into ROTC. Knew he would get drafted so he figured he'd rather be an officer. Liked it so much he stayed long enough to get two stars. Right after he went in he told me he was going to airborne school. I was in college and figured I'd beat him to being the first to jump out of an airplane so I joined the parachute club. Back then tandem jumping did not exist - you were by your lonesome. I made a few jumps. For beginners you exit at 3,000 ft and from there it takes 13 seconds to hit the ground without a chute. My last jump I had a hard ripcord pull. So I grabbed the handle with both hands and gave it a big jerk. That opened the pack and deployed the chute but it also caused me to do a forward roll on to my back while the chute was deploying. Instead of seeing the ground I was looking at blue sky and the parachute streaming out between my legs. Had time enough to think I'm going to die. When the chute inflated it flipped me over backwards into normal position. The chute was fine, I rode it down but my neck has never been the same.
Like I said, random, disjointed anecdotes of the old days. By comparison things have been boring for the last 40 years.
Springsteen's 'Glory Days" is my theme song.
One of the best things I've done, I bet their parents weren't so happy though. My buddy and I continued down the road on our quest for adventure.
