OK.

All of my dad stories are suddenly boring.

My dad was an Air Force Pilot, but had an regular job in intelligence. His clearances were so high they were classified. He was working at the PACAF headquarters (Pacific Air Forces) at Hickam AFB. One of the 4 Star Generals told him as an order, "I want to know where every single aircraft is at any moment" and I want that updates all the time. Of course computers were new and primitive at the time.

One day almost every aircraft in the Pacific was suddenly going to the same area in Vietnam. Dad knew the General would want that update immediately, but even at headquarters, the procedure to update the General was a chain of command and let them tell their direct commander to update up the chain. That was going to take too long. So dad stuck the paperwork in his shirt, and just walked right into the 4 star generals office while two other generals in the command were in there. Dad told whispered in the generals ear he had major movement of assets. The general ordered the room cleared, and dad handed him the information. The general of course asked what is going on, and why was I not informed this was going to happen? There were no answers, so he got on the phone to the Pentagon. The general was told "need to know only" and even though you are in command of all the Pacific fleet, you don't need to know.

Eventually they learned only the president and the Joints Chiefs knew that it was the rescue attempt for the POWs in Vietnam. The POWs had been moved just hours before by chance so it was a total bust.

A few days later that general called dad and asked dad to meet him on the golf course at 8:00 AM for a round of golf. It was funny, that the general could always get the t-times he wanted whenever he called.

my dad. i didnt spend much time with him. he worked a lot and then he died young.

i have only one dad quote, no TWO from the man.

#1. i can live anywhere, i just need three things. good job, good friends, love of a good woman.

#2. do at least ONE productive thing everyday.

his brother, my uncle told me:

1. there is nothing sexy about desperate.

hahhaha..

One of dad's "jobs" at the base where I was born was to keep track of every single classified document on base. If it was not in the file cabinet he had to have a log of which person had it in possession. His office was a bank vault like building with an armed guard at the door, and one inside. He had very high clearances even then, and had to to have the documents in his possession or under his control. I was obviously way too young to remember any of that.

One day he was driving home on the typical route past a hangar and he noticed armed guards and a barricade, and a lot of activity in front of a hangar. The guards had dogs, and were very serious. He was wanting to head home but they said it was the old "need to know" area and he had to drive all the away around the base to get home.

A few weeks later he found out it was one of the first U2 flights. This was before Castro took over Cuba. It may have been just some test flights.

More car stories from my dad:
"We used to drive out and park on a side street and watch all the cars go by on their way to Van Nuys Boulevard to cruise up and down. We’d wait for a car that looked like it would be a good race for us and then we’d pull out and pull up beside them and get a little race before we got to Van Nuys Boulevard where all the traffic was and all the police were. We had it all wired down pretty good. We’d pull up next to somebody at a stop light and rev the motor a couple times. Then I would let the car jump a couple feet forward, a couple more revs. That’d be it, the guy next to you couldn’t resist, it was like a string in front of a cat. As soon as the light turned yellow I’d give it a lot of gas and as soon as it turned green then I would slam the clutch out and floor it and be burning a little rubber and we’d be gone. I was real good at speed shifting, its called power shifting when you don’t even let up on the gas you just bang the clutch down real fast while you slam the gear shift as hard as you can and you really make up a lot of time.Most of the drag racing was street racing and we didn’t really race a full quarter mile at top speed or anything. It was too dangerous to do that on the street – to be a hundred miles per hour. So, it was pretty much just through second gear maybe – 60 probably. And another light would be coming up so we’d slow down. Maybe it was me that I didn’t want to go that fast on the street. Once I demonstrated that I was faster than you, what’s the point? I’d let off on the gas and you could go ahead and pass me and that’s okay with me, but I showed you.