First Job

I've been out of work for 6 weeks now, and it's looking more bleak every day. I've always worked hard - it's what defined me. From the time I was 13 I had a paper route. I was a responsible kid when it came to work. But the money made from working hard was spent irresponsibly. Fast food, cigarettes, alcohol, weed - I never had a dime to my name. Still don't, relatively speaking.

My first real job was at a major roast beef fast-food franchise when I was almost 15, making $2.00 an hour. It was a cultural experience. My first day I watched a coworker I hadn't met yet stumble in the door, hung-over, looking like he hadn't slept in days. He pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket and poured the contents on the table. An assortment of shapes and sizes spilled out, he picked out a couple different ones, ate them dry, and went to work. The store was open late to catch the bar crowd, and a few hours before close someone would take alcohol orders. After close we'd sit outside and drink. Nobody cared that I was only 16 and drinking Sloe Gin, we were part of the team. The manager was a former pro baseball player, another manager was a hard-looking young married gal that liked to talk about her love life, another employee was so smooth he could pick up beautiful girls while wearing an apron covered with roast beef stains. I just took it all in. No job I ever had after was quite like that - I wouldn't trade those experiences for anything.

The Neighborhood Drive In

What would a seventies blog be without a drive-in movie post?

We had one in our neighborhood, about 8 blocks from home. When we were kids, if we were lucky enough to get out after dark and able to stay out a while, we would walk down there. We had to cross a highway to get there, and if our parents knew we'd get in trouble. But there was a golf course directly behind the theater, and we'd pull a bench from the course up to the back fence, and watch the show.

I had a paper route when I was a teenager, and I'd deliver papers from my Schwinn Orange Crate, and later, from my 10 speed Schwinn Continental. If I got done early, I'd pedal down to the drive-in.

There was a couple of big, mean, brothers my age that cleaned up the drive-in parking lot the morning after shows. You had to get there early to beat them to the lot. But if you did... There were always cans of un-opened beer, partially full bottles of Boones Farm, and all kinds of assorted goodies. It was a teenagers paradise. I'd make a quick swing through, throw the best stuff in my paper sack, and pedal home before the clean-up crew got there. I'd ditch the stash somewhere on the banks of the creek that wound through our neighboorhood park. We'd come back later and pretend we actually liked the stuff.

Later, when we were actually driving, we hit that drive-in with buddies and dates. I saw "Star Wars" for the first time there. Yet another memorable night was spent with a few friends, beer, and other leafy "illicit substances". We watched "Marathon Man". The sound of that dentist's drill was absolutely horrific.

All in all, it was a spot of significant memories for this Product Of The Seventies.

Old Mill Hill

Building on my last post about Old Mill Hill.

We would scrounge behind service stations (remember those?) for old tires. Every sorry excuse for a service station had a mountain of old tires behind the station. Depending on who was driving, what vehicle they had, and how many people were in the vehicle, we took as many tires as we had room for. We would drive up to the top of Old Mill Hill and wait for cars to come along. When they got about 200 yards away, we'd start the tire rolling. It took great timing, skill, and luck, but we did manage to nail a couple of cars. Funny, looking back we never considered it vandalism or criminal, it was just a way of having fun.

Then once the tires were gone, we had more room in the vehicle. If Jud was along, he had some big ones. He'd go to the back door of the Holiday Inn, and steal an empty beer keg. Then he'd take it back to a liquor store for the keg deposit. We weren't often lacking for beer money...

My 72 Bug

All through school I drove a 72 bug. Not the one pictured here, but pretty darn close. While I hated that car, it was memorable.

We had a hill in our part of town called "Old Mill Hill". There was a Holiday Inn hotel at the top of the hill. You could drive the road around the hill, or you could gto across country, and climb the greater than 45 degree slope up the side of the hill. Guess what we liked to do in the VW? I'd get started up the hill, and we were pointing so far up you'd think you were going to flip over backwards. The people in the back seat were always terrified. It was a great time. More on Old Mill Hill in future posts. A lot of stories around that.

One time, we were off-roading in another field close to a highway. We had 3 or 4 of us in my VW, along with beer, of course, and we cruised across the wooded field to a big lighted billboard next to the highway. Crazy man Eugene (Geno), climbed that billboard, and stood on the lighted platform in front of the sign. He was mooning all the cars driving by, and they were honking, of course. We finally got him down, and drove back towards the road. As we get close to the road, we saw a vehicle trailing us, but a quarter mile off. We looked hard, and thought we say lights on the top. We floored it, hit the road, made a couple of quick turns, and were home free. A friend in a nearby house saw the whole thing, and confirmed that it was a police car. Yet another escape by the skin of our teeth.

I could tell stories about the VW forever, and probably will. When I got into college, they used to kid me about having 7 back seats in that car. But that's another topic...

My Name Is Earl

I caught this show for the first time tonight. What a great show! He made a list of the 200 + things he's done wrong in his life, and he's out to correct every one of them. He believes in karma, and thinks he has to make amends for everything.

It made me think about all the things I did wrong.

Ome time, I talked the majority of the low brass section of the high school pep-band into chipping in for several cases of beer before a basketball game road trip. So we're slamming beers just before getting on the bus. People are filling their instrument cases and pockets with cans of beer. Just as I was getting on the bus, they said it was full, and asked for volunteers to drive. I ended up riding with a couple of senior tuba players, and we drank heavily on the way. By the time we got there, I was trashed. So was the entire trombone section. The problem was, they got caught. Every person I talked into this scheme was kicked out of school for a few days, and kicked out of band for the remainder of the year. Except me. I didn't ride the bus, there was no physical evidence I participated, and all they knew was that I was stumbling around the bleachers.

Another time...

Well, this could go on forever. I do know I'm not going to miss this show, it's GREAT stuff!