|
I'm 48. Grew up in a fairly small logging town in north Idaho. Lived on the edge of town. Rode bikes everywhere. BB gun. Then 22. 30-06 for deer and elk. Driver's license when I was 14. Imagine what would happen if an 11 year-old were to stand on a street corner today with a rifle. Happened all the time when I was a boy. I came home when it got dark, and nobody asked where I had been. We stole thick nylon ropes from the log booms and made Tarzan swings in the huge cottonwood trees overhanging the river. My boyhood was idyllic. Nobody locked their car, and most had the keys dangling from the ignition. Even downtown.
__________________
Man of Carbon Fiber (stronger than steel)
Mocha 1978 911SC. "Coco"
|