Enough lies.
Racer through the years.
Me, before you could see me. Long Beach, California.
I'm in there, trust me. 6 months before some stranger I never met, and never saw again slapped me on the backside and made me cry, at the US Navy hospital in Corona, California.
Me, carpet surfing, 8 months. Shootin' the curl, sportin' 3 cornered pants, pooping green and puking pablum. Cowabunga dude!
That carpet surfing is hard work. Dad giving me a ride on his knee after a few runs on the big waves.
Grandpa giving me a knee ride. I was like, "Who is this guy?"
Grandpa was good with kids. He had 6 of his own, and they all went out and had a bunch, in twos and threes, so lots of grandkids (my cousins).
2 years, 7 months.
GQ all the way. Gonna chase down some girls, play it cool.
Rico Suave cool.
Tough guy. Heading for the ring.
3 years, 3 months. Merry Christmas from San Pedro, California. Dad was in the Navy, so we moved around a lot. San Pedro was just another stop along the way.
Second grade. Waiting on that last tooth to come in.
If memory serves me, this was the year that Kennedy was assinated.
Fifth grade. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
That sweater had leather elbows. I felt like Ward Cleaver.
I looked like Dennis The Menace.
July, 1972, almost 16 years old, Silver Lake, South of Everett, Washington, at the house in the next picture. Holding a chicken here, as I recall it was one that became a pet. Mom made pets out of too many of the animals. We could never eat a pet.
Ate that chicken's unborn young though. Every morning at breakfast.
With my mom, 1981. That house is the last house my family lived in as a family. Mom got it in the divorce. When she remarried, and moved in with her new husband, I moved in a took over payments. Lived there for about 10 years, met and married Mrs. Racer 1.0. Mom got divorced from her second husband, bought a 24 foot travel trailer, and moved it in behind the house. That may have been a contributing factor in the deterioration of my marriage to Mrs. Racer 1.0, but I would never fault mu mother for such things. Divorced Mrs. Racer 1.0 after 3 and 1/2 years, mom cashed me out in the equity I earned for making payments on her mortgage for 10 years, I moved out and bought my first bit of real estate.
A few years later mom sold her place to developers, along with everyone else in the area, everyone moved away, the machines came in a raped the land, and they built tick tacky little boxes, so close together you can't drive a car between them, and besides a tiny two car garage that would have trouble accommodating two Smart cars, there is limited street parking.
No more rural scene with hobby farms dotting the landscape.
>>>>EDIT<<<<
I should have included this video, it is perfect for it.
YouTube