My Life


My life in the big rig community for truck drivers has been sort of like a roller coaster with a lot of ups and some downers.

Ok how do I stay out of trouble

A good place to start would be around 8 or 9 years old when I was kind of a nuance around the house since my curiosity got the better of me by checking things out.
One day while playing with our terry dog named Terry, there was a old Briggs and Straten reel lawn mower with a cast iron crank starter built in the 1930's. It was 1951 at that time. It was buried in a junk pile in the corner of our property.  Pulled it out and worked on it for a few hours and got it started.

Looks like this one.

Lawn mower
Briggs & Straten lawn mower 1930

At the same time,  liked to venture out on my bike to see the world. My brother would have to find me sometimes for lunch or time to come home.

The bike looked like this.


One day, ventured a different way and got lost.
Stopped at a house and asked a wonderful widow lady for help. She somehow found out who my parents are and called them. They came to pick me up after she gave me milk and cookies. She then offered me a job working in her yard with my parents approval. Started up my lawn mower and sit on top somehow and ride it to her house. Would just reach back and engage the clutch an go. After cutting lawn, she had me move a lot of rocks in a wheelbarrow to where she wanted them. 

She also got me a job working for another wonderful widow lady down the road about a half mile from there.
One day coming home from work, there was a lot of smoke coming from our place with fire trucks there. My dad's big shed was burning down.
Before leaving for work to cut grass, played with matches behind the building. One of many ways that have hurt my parents and family.
Was very sorry but had a hard time to express it. My mother’s pastor invited me to a church summer camp for children. Was stricken by a pretty girl there, but I was too bashful to talk to her. Hoped to see her again after camp, but never did. During a tent meeting, I became a Christian and was baptized thereafter at a church.
Also in school would play hooky sometimes and head for a tree house over looking a creek to smoke cigars. This enrolled me into a special education class. The teacher was Mrs. Vitalli that was very strict. Her assignments were hard. She lived across the street from school. She would sometimes take us to her house after school for a outdoor picnic. Hot dogs, chips and beans with a dessert with our parents’ permission. One day she took us on a field trip to a grocery store to teach us commerce. There was a display of fruit outside in front of the store. It was there that a big red apple enticed me to sample. Someone cheesed on me after taking a bite. Mrs. Vitalli rushed at me like there might be a tornado about to approach. She grabbed me by the ear and pulled me to the owner of the store to apologize and say I am sorry. I think she paid for the apple. Will never forget her; will always have fond memories of her. Flew from Los Angles in my 20’s to pay her a visit and paid her respects for what she has done for me.   
So lets skip down the road a ways into my mid-teens, At about 15 years old, my parents bought me a paper route in West St. Paul, Mn near my high school. They paid  $400 for it. It was then your job and business to deliver twice a day and once on Sunday.  Bought another route a little latter. Kept me very busy. Delivered, collected once a week and paid for next bundles to be dropped at my corners. On Sundays, hired a friend from school that had a red wagon to haul the papers as we delivered the papers. Also earned some tips. Liked hanging around my friend because of his older sister named Maria. The parents came from Mexico. Hung around them as they invited me to many of the things they did in their culture. I enjoyed them very much and had fun.
The money earned from the paper routes went to clothing for school mostly.
Looks like a weeks worth of newspapers to deliver.

News papers

Newspapers to deliver.

Time for a break. This will continue. Boys Reformatory is next. A downer.