"Hello Cousin!"

Wednesday afternoon I went to the Security Shack with my Leadman. We dropped off three new names for site visits.

One of the names rang that faint bell.

Soon, another bell began to 'tink' in the dim distance.

Name and place but no harmony.

Thursday afternoon the phone rang. I answered, "This is David."

"Hey Dave!"

"Hey "Puddin'" what's up?"

"I've got three guys here in my office. They're headed your way tomorrow. Need anything? I'll have them hand carry it out to ya."

"Hmmm, no. We're good."

"Ya sure?"

"Sure! Hey, do you know this boy "Man Hands"?"

"No. He's standing right here though."

"Ask him if GR-15 means anything to him?"

"He says, "No.""

"Hmm. Did he work for BASI in Germany?"

"Yep."

In the background, "Who is that?"

"Ask him if he ever went to Germany to fix an airplane that his cousin broke?"

"Who the hell is that?" "Man Hands" was getting agitated.

"Ya want me to tell him who you are or do ya wanna let him sweat?"

"Puddin', I'll leave that up to you."

Puddin' put him on the phone.

"Who the f*&;k is this?!"

"Oh, I ain't done with ya yet big boy. Back home, do you have a great big ol' coffee table picture book fulla Harleys?"

"Yeah...", the dim bell had begun to toll.

"I know you do. I gave it to you for Christmas!"

"David!!!"

It had been Christmas 1994(?).

A crew of four had been sent to fix an airplane. One of the guys daughter fell gravely ill back home. He left and another sheetmetal tech was sent in from Germany.

As if my running into "Man Hands" after all these years wasn't enough...

One night in Korea the crew was all at the club and "Man Hands" met the pilot that wrecked the plane in the first place. They are distant cousins.

This story was twisted from the very beginning!

Near Misses

In the same vein as "& Degrees of Separation", we have near misses.

In the last couple of weeks I've had a couple of conversations that led to connections previously missed.

"Eagle Pass" was wearing a Texas A&M ball cap and said that his kids were bugging him to attend A&M. I asked where he was from, he replied, "Eagle Pass but I live in San Antonio."

"Really, where'bouts?"

"A little town North of San Antonio. On I35 between San Antonio and Austin."

"Selma?"

"Yeah. Know it?"

"Sure. Where in Selma?"

"1604 and I35."

"Just South of the horse track?"

"Yeah."

"Behind Ruben's?"

"That's it!"

"Ya know the big house on top of that hill?"

"Orange?"

"Yup. That's my Brother's house!"

I met "Sling-Blade". (Not his call sign just a tag I've hung on him.) The course of getting acquainted usually leads to the question, "So, where all have you been in your career?"

That led to an unmentionable repair station in San Antonio, TX...

"No kiddin'? When?"

"'99."

"What line? DC-9's, 73's and 75's."

"No shit?! Me too."

"Yeah, I was there when that kid got killed in the T/R (Thrust Reverser)."

"I knew him. In passing."

"I was on the same crew."

"So was I, for a while."

Later in the week I met Lewis/Clarke...

"We were sitting in the club at NAS2 (Sigonella, Sicily) when we heard gun fire. A LOT of it!"

"OH, YEAH! Little car?"

"Yeah, blue!"

"Station wagon!"

"With bullet holes about this F*%&ng Big!"

"YEAH!"

"Lot's of 'em!!!"

These moments make me wonder: How many connections have I missed? How many more will follow? Where will they lead? Where might they have led?

"Where are we going and why am I in this hand basket?"

How many degrees?

They say there are seven degrees of separation between all of us.
(Something like that.)

Not in this business!

A couple of weeks ago I met a pilot in Mississippi. I'll call him Goldwater. I ran into him the other night in Texas.

Goldwater introduced me to another pilot friend of his that had come to town to visit Goldwater and a mutual friend of theirs.
(With me so far?)

So, as is customary, the three of us were drinking beer, doing shots and telling lies.

Visiting friend says, "blah blah yadda yadda Mombasa..."

"Mombasa? When were you in Mombasa?"

"1992."

"Hmm, really."

"Why? Were you there? When?"

"Yeah, '92. 'Provide Comfort'."

"What were you doing?"

"Maintenance on Priority Air Transport."

"No shit. Then you know pilots D and B."

"Hell, yes. I was sitting right seat when D blew the engine of off the R/H wing!"

"Sonofabitch! That was you?"

"That was me!"

"Bill's here in town. He's the guy we were telling you about. I've got his number."

Next thing I know he hands me the phone. I hear B, "Hello?"

Now, I haven't talked to B in 17 years. What the hell am I gonna say? He doesn't know that he's being featured on a bar room version of this is your life. He has no idea who is on the other end of the phone...

"B, just which Tom Clancy novel were you reading when D blew up the engine?"

"DAVID!!!!!!!!! Where the hell are you?"

I had lunch today with one of three people on the planet that were 'There' that day.

"There we were. 18,000 feet over the plains of Africa..."

Choose Your Unit Of Measure

318 Cubic Inches, 750 CC's, 24 Ft?

They all add up to fun.

"Maggie, somewhere in Texas enroute

to San Antonio."

"Maggie, The Dodge and

The Mobile Command Post"

The Dodge and I have been around the

block. Five or six years and one hundred 

thousand miles worth.

Last Spring I bought the little trailer.

24' of self sufficiency. It was a cozy spot.

Sure, after a while it felt a touch tight.

Cramped even. But, it was paid for. All

mine. 

When The Architect got his new Harley

Maggie became a Legacy.

Last 4th of July weekend I left the OKAY 

City with a one way plane ticket.

(Man, the whole idea of a one way ticket 

out of there felt great!)

When I threw my leg over her and hit the

button it was "Love At First Feel".

Rolling out of the driveway, of course,

"Back In Black" pounded in my head.

It HAD been toooooooo long and I was

damn glad to be back in the saddle. 

I hadn't owned a 'bike in nearly 20 years.

The Architect was, understandably,

nervous. He DID put me through my

paces. 

As we rode, he instructed, advised and

critiqued.

As he did, I thought about some of the 

crazy shit I had done on a 'bike in 

the past.

That Saturday we rode up to Gruene Hall.

I knew I had graduated when he bought

the first round.

Three days later, 480 miles. Cruisin' 

and grinning. (Despite the destination. 

The OKAY City.)

I made that round trip a couple of more

times and racked up a few thousand

miles all in all.

Now, 2009 has been one long road trip.

The Mobile Command Post wears a "For

Sale" sign.

My beloved Dodge is sold and gone.

Maggie is waiting for me to come a

ridin' until it's time for The Preacher

or The Master SGT to saddle up for a

turn.

Soon life will be all about catching 

flights, hotels n motels, rental cars and

working from site to site.

YEAH!

Now THAT'S livin'!!!

One Great Weekend

I can't get enough of these.

Cat Stevens plays over and over in my head.

"How long are you here for? Where are you going?

When will you be back?"

Simply hard questions.

As is any question you don't have an answer for.

HEY!!!

I didn't start off to be wistful! 

I surprised my Eldest yesterday and got a Whole Lotta

smiles and hugs.

That's why ya can't slap this grin offa my face!

(OK, I realize that's not much of a grin in the photo. 

As was pointed out to me by The First Former Mrs!)

Shuffle

Itunes shuffle. I've wanted to jump into this game for a while now. So, here we go, the first Ten Songs on shuffle...

Peeping and Hiding
Lyme and Cybelle

Krazyworld
La Ley

Fieldworker
Crosby and Nash
Live

Babylon Sister
Steely Dan

Musta Notta Gotta Lotta
Joe Ely

Jack
Tom Petty

The End of the End
Paul McCartney

I'll Be Here In The Morning
Townes Van Zandt

Wish You Were Here
Pink Floyd

Gimme Shelter
The Rolling Stones

Not a bad listen!

30 Days on the Road

OKC- Greenville, TX- Lawton, OK- Ft Worth, TX- Greenville, TX- OKC

Finally made it back to our hangar after a fairly harrowing ride. Triple digit speeds along I35 heading North.

When you're faced with riding with a horny, homesick young wrench (that also misses his Mommy) you buy the ticket and take the ride.

I figure he got laid, got fed and got his laundry done yesterday. He'll be ready to hit the road again in a week or so.

Me, I'm ready now. With a little luck I'll be headed back out of this frigid wasteland by Tuesday. (As we careened North we watched the thermometer in the rear view drop steadily.)

Most of this trip was good.

It can be (very) frustrating working in different shops with different ways of doing things. Sometimes better ways, sometimes not. You just have to roll with it.

As much as it chokes me to say this, it's all in your attitude. Attitude was Grandads biggest pet peeve.

"I did what you told me Grandad."

"Yeah, but I didn't like your attitude when you did it."

Some people lack the Attitude Control the Road demands. They make it harder on themselves, creating little self fulfilling prophecies. They make it difficult on the rest of the crew in a variety of ways.

BUT, we got it done. Only one trip to the emergency room, one drunken scuffle in the parking lot and one crew mate hauling ass for home in the middle of the night.

And, we did manage to have a little fun along the way.

The Lee Street Bar and Grill in Greenville was cool. We made it over there for a few Wednesday night jams. The first night I saw this young guy tuning up in the hall way. I do mean young. He finally hit the stage with the house band and proceeded to blow me away. Composed, calm and cool. Right at home on stage. RIFFING Stevie Ray Vaughn. Playing and singing. He's been taking lessons and playing for four years...

He's TWELVE YEARS OLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

His mother confided that the Kid thinks we drove down from OKC every Wednesday to hear him play. We played along.

One night I tipped the band and walked my tab. Oops. Went back the next day. Bartender says, "What can I get ya?"

"Uh, my tab."

He looked at me for a second, "Burger, fries and Miller Lite?"

"Uh, yes. There were Miller Lites involved."

They were cool about it. I was embarrassed and they knew it.

We tried to take in some blues. It was billed as a blues bar. $7.00 cover. "Who's playing?"

"A DJ."

"Never mind."

We did go back another time. We had to fill out membership cards. I listed my address as 1600 Pennsylvania Ave and signed it Dr Hunter S. Thompson.

I got served.

We hit the Hangar Bar and Grill. It was billed as a grill. No food served.

Another cover charge paid for a decent Country Pop band. When they played that Cross Canadian Ragweed song, 'Boys From Oklahoma'...

I'd shout "BOOMER!!!"

Everyone would turn to look just in time to see/ hear Sally reply, "SOONER!!!"

We went back the last night. The turn out was so small that the band didn't even play. We played pool and played, "Let's get Sally drunk and watch him try to walk!" Cuervo and Patron flowed.

In Ft Worth I finally had chances to hit the Stockyards. In all of the years I lived in Dallas I never made it to Ft Worth.

Very cool.

Billy Bob's IS huge. That's the way it's billed, ''The Worlds Largest Honky Tonk''. 'The White Elephant' also cool. It's the bar used in the Walker Texas Ranger TV show. 'The Stockyard Saloon', 'The Star Cafe'; "For the best steak in Dallas go to Ft Worth".

The Road. Work hard, play hard. An 8 hour day was a short one. 10's were the norm and 12's not uncommon. Two guys even pulled a 20 hour shift. There were a few nights when we had to work nights, that stank.

Now, I'll drop off my laundry and be ready to roll come Tuesday. This looks like a solo trip which will be very nice. When you go with a crew, EVERYTHING is a committee decision. That gets old.

I'm just glad to be back in my element for a while.