When I was 7 or so, my dad bought an old tow truck we named The Brown Bomber, since it was brown. Witty, eh? He kept the towing apparatus on it for a few years, but it was gone by the time we moved to Solebury in 1983.
I recall Dad trying to teach me to drive stick in this truck. We lurched across our fields (possibly on April 6) as his "beverage" sloshed across our laps. He got a kick out of it, luckily, since I was tired of doing the dishes. I never really got the hang of a manual transmission.
This truck was used for the heavy/dirty/hard work, such as hauling lumber, or dragging gigantic rocks up to the house. Why we were dragging rocks, I don't know. Sometimes my dad did wacky things just for kicks.
Sunday, April 6th
Sory about the past few days. Today Dad and I dragged 2 rocks (big) up from the woods by way of the truck. My throat hurts. I hate Jamie and Brian . They always repeat everything I say!
I made a deal with Mom that if I fixed supper, she would do the dishes. I'm gonna fix dinner for the rest of my life. On Thursday I found a note between BW. and Frank. They want to screw Nadine and Stacey.
I hate BC. He calls me his arm rest and he smells!
Yeeeah...fix dinner for the rest of my life....that deal sure did go south, didn't it? When I lived alone, I cooked a nice meal each Sunday and ate the leftovers all week. Ever since getting married, I rarely make even pancakes anymore. Anything requiring more than 2 ingredients is out of the question.
JW and BB were kids in my church group. They were a year or so younger than me, which explains the repetition game. JW remained a jerk for as long as I knew him, but BB ended up cool. He lent me his "Head On The Door" (by The Cure, duh!) tape on one of our ski trips. Years later, I recall him going to a New Order concert.
And I guess I should apologize for anyone's feelings that are getting hurt, but people, these thoughts of mine were from almost 20 years ago! I'm not a hateful person anymore! I've got good hair, cool tattoos, and am way more secure with myself than in 1987. And Lord knows, I was no prize pig myself in 1987-you can see the yearbook photo for yourself.