I graduated high school in 1975 at the age of 17. During the next few years, I jumped around from job to job. I did some construction work, worked in factories, I worked at a 7-11 for a while... There wasn't much going on in the small town where I lived and it was tough to find anything decent.
At the age of 20, I moved down to Houston with a friend of mine. I'd never been there but another friend had gone down there and did pretty well for himself working as a welder, but he came back after a few months. He had family to come back to and a nice house, so it was just an adventure for him. I was living on my own and just barely scraping by. There were a few times when I had no money even for a loaf of bread, and went to bed hungry. It seemed to me that there was no way it could be any worse than what I was going through at the time, working in a factory earning just above minimum wage, driving a piece of crap car that had the quarter panels rusted out and leaked oil like a sieve, and living in an old house that was converted into apartments. I think my rent was like $140 a month. It was a slum.
So we went to Houston and stayed at a YMCA. During the day, we went out and searched for work. I found a job in an equipment rental yard. I was hired to do maintenance on the machinery but took an interest in helping out with repairs, so eventually, under the tutelage of the other mechanics, I became a mechanic. I did that kind of work until I was 28 at which time I moved to Colorado and decided to go to college.
End of Chapter 2