My 15th summer, my dad got rid of me...farmed me out to a friend of his who owned a cattle ranch near Adin, California. I bucked many bales of sweet alfalfa...
Shot coyotes with my single shot .22, tramped all over those hills when not loading hay. No girls about...I thought it was hell. Looking back today, it was a pretty great summer. Loren, (ranch owner) died a few years back...he's in Adin's
cemetary now. A long drive, but I've often thought of paying him a visit, thanking him for the things I learned that summer.
(edit) not only learned...developed a lot physically. Another kid there, 18, was working to get into police acadamy, taught me a few "cop moves". Bucking hay made me stonger, the moves taught by Bob were handy. Upon my move back home, a guy who had bullied me the previous year got his ass kicked.
