Memoreeeees!
Hard "R" Rating On This Post!
OK, this post may be a bit of a "TMI" download.
Just a warning.
Cold wet morning. Wednesday, Jan 30th, 2015. Streets are quiet, most folks are taking the week off, and still inside snug in bed.
It's one of those rare, rare days when I can tell you EXACTLY where I was 30 years ago this week, this day, this minute.
See, school kids got this week off on vacation.
Parents, mostly they gotta work.
On December 30, 1985, I was a senior in high school. Off on vacation. Cold, frozen day. Rare in Houston.
Dad had forbidden me to fire up the station wagon or the motor scooter due to the icy weather. He didn't go so far as to seize the keys, but there were enough prying eyes on the cul de sac to make sneaking out a vehicle a losing proposition.
No prohibition on leg-powered transport, so I bundled up warm and trotted out the ol' 12 speed. It was a vintage Motobecane loaned to me by the father of my girlfriend. With high pressure silk tires, toe clips and handlebars that kept your head down and ass in the air, it was probably the least suitable bike for icy streets.
Still, when ya gotta ride, ya gotta ride. And ride I did. Straight to my girlfriend's condo on the far side of the high school campus.
See, her Mom & Dad worked all the way across town, Mom in the Med Center, Dad in Montrose. Once there, they were there all day, unlike my folks, who had a depressing habit of dropping in for lunch or "just to check on things".
And today, we just didn't want the interruption. We were catching the express train to Shag City, and the round trip was scheduled from 9 AM until the first car bearing a parent nosed under the carport.
As days in your life are rated, that day was right up there on the "Best Of" list. Not an inch of living room carpet went unplowed. Each step going upstairs got a change in position. Heck, if we'd have figured out how to tie a buffer pad to her ass, we would have polished the shit out of the kitchen floor.
Being 17 was a wonderful thing. You haven't completely learned Quality, but as Uncle Joe supposedly said, "Quantity has a quality all of its own!"
Of course, there was a downside. Proper use of birth control prevented the 9 Month Surprise, but proper use of some good lube (Der Vienerschlieder, in HochDeutsch) would have prevented the friction burns. Ouch...
OK, this post may be a bit of a "TMI" download.
Just a warning.
Cold wet morning. Wednesday, Jan 30th, 2015. Streets are quiet, most folks are taking the week off, and still inside snug in bed.
It's one of those rare, rare days when I can tell you EXACTLY where I was 30 years ago this week, this day, this minute.
See, school kids got this week off on vacation.
Parents, mostly they gotta work.
On December 30, 1985, I was a senior in high school. Off on vacation. Cold, frozen day. Rare in Houston.
Dad had forbidden me to fire up the station wagon or the motor scooter due to the icy weather. He didn't go so far as to seize the keys, but there were enough prying eyes on the cul de sac to make sneaking out a vehicle a losing proposition.
No prohibition on leg-powered transport, so I bundled up warm and trotted out the ol' 12 speed. It was a vintage Motobecane loaned to me by the father of my girlfriend. With high pressure silk tires, toe clips and handlebars that kept your head down and ass in the air, it was probably the least suitable bike for icy streets.
Still, when ya gotta ride, ya gotta ride. And ride I did. Straight to my girlfriend's condo on the far side of the high school campus.
See, her Mom & Dad worked all the way across town, Mom in the Med Center, Dad in Montrose. Once there, they were there all day, unlike my folks, who had a depressing habit of dropping in for lunch or "just to check on things".
And today, we just didn't want the interruption. We were catching the express train to Shag City, and the round trip was scheduled from 9 AM until the first car bearing a parent nosed under the carport.
As days in your life are rated, that day was right up there on the "Best Of" list. Not an inch of living room carpet went unplowed. Each step going upstairs got a change in position. Heck, if we'd have figured out how to tie a buffer pad to her ass, we would have polished the shit out of the kitchen floor.
Being 17 was a wonderful thing. You haven't completely learned Quality, but as Uncle Joe supposedly said, "Quantity has a quality all of its own!"
Of course, there was a downside. Proper use of birth control prevented the 9 Month Surprise, but proper use of some good lube (Der Vienerschlieder, in HochDeutsch) would have prevented the friction burns. Ouch...
posted by El Capitan | 4:06 PM
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