Images of childhood
- Thread starter Wren
- Start date
AprilT
Well-known Member
- Location
- A galaxy far far away
Wonderful photos.
Roadwarrior
Member
In the 50's (my formative years) my 2 uncles tried their darnedest to get me interested in their chosen crafts, one was a brickmason the other was a long haul trucker. I received 2 gifts on 2 separate holidays, the trucker brought me a 'Ringsby' toy hauler (his employer), not to be outdone the other brought me a large box of plastic building bricks. Much like the ones you can buy now but much smaller, some colored red, some white - the roofs were green cardboard. I loved both the toys, even considered driving as an occupation in my 30's but decided I made more doing what I was doing. The task of masonry wasn't high on my list but I loved the creativity that the blocks invoked from me. I kept them in a very large tin can I think it had flour or sugar can't remember but it made a lot of noise when I dumped them on the floor to create. Below is like images of them.
Falcon
DV8
- Location
- So. California
Great toys. Wish I'd had them when I was a youngster.
TinkerToys were all I had and they were fun.
Now, look at the Lego sets.
TinkerToys were all I had and they were fun.
Now, look at the Lego sets.
Pappy
Living the Dream
When I was about four, five maybe, all I wanted to become was a cop.
Not a Dragnet, Sgt Friday cop, but one that wore the blue, the boots, the service cap, the badge, the…gun…and holster.
OH YEAAAH
Not a doubt in my mind.
Thing is, I was never around cops per se, at least not for a few years.
So all I had for ready reference was the local service station guy. The ‘almost a cop’ guy.
He had a uniform, and if I recall, had some sorta badge.
And he had a service cap. The one with the glossy bill, and high rise front.
Yeah, he was almost a cop.
I always liked stopping there.
‘Fill’er up?
‘Ethyl?’
He’d get the pump going, cranking the numbers to zero, sticking the nozzle in, flipping the lever, filling the back seat with the glorious aroma of gas fumes of which I breathed deep (couldn’t get enough).
‘Check ‘at oil?’
He lifted the hood and did….something, appearing at the driver’s door, showing Dad the dip stick, resting it in display on a really cool red rag, then tucking that rag in his back pocket. Letting half of it stick out……cool.
Sometimes he’d go to the rack of oil, grab wunna the glass bottles with astainless steel spout, and pour in a bit of oil.
Then he’d spray the windshield with some sorta soapy liquid, wiping all that off with the magic blue towel until the grime and streaks was totally gone. All the while talking about the weather or the ‘goddamm Yankees’, or Joe Louis.
And he had BO…yeah, real big guy aroma…..wow.
Man, I wanted to be him, only I’d strap on a gun, as that was the only thing he was missing.
What a cool job!
Just doin’ that all day long.
‘Check ‘at oil?’
‘Whuddaya think about them goddamm Yankees?’
tuck
wipe
pump
….kids in the back seat, lookin’ at me in awe…wide eyes ogling my holster…and ivory gun handle….and red rag.
One day me and Dad were headin’ down the road.
Just him and me,
and he sez, ‘Whaddya wanna be when you grow up?’
‘A service station guy!’
Things kinda turned south right then.
Dads.
Go figure.
Whud he do for a living? Work in a warehouse?
Prolly jealous.
After that, I never shared my true thoughts with him….for years….decades maybe.
Heh, turns out folks rather frown on service stations guys….with guns.
But, hey, if that ever happens……..
Not a Dragnet, Sgt Friday cop, but one that wore the blue, the boots, the service cap, the badge, the…gun…and holster.
OH YEAAAH
Not a doubt in my mind.
Thing is, I was never around cops per se, at least not for a few years.
So all I had for ready reference was the local service station guy. The ‘almost a cop’ guy.
He had a uniform, and if I recall, had some sorta badge.
And he had a service cap. The one with the glossy bill, and high rise front.
Yeah, he was almost a cop.
I always liked stopping there.
‘Fill’er up?
‘Ethyl?’
He’d get the pump going, cranking the numbers to zero, sticking the nozzle in, flipping the lever, filling the back seat with the glorious aroma of gas fumes of which I breathed deep (couldn’t get enough).
‘Check ‘at oil?’
He lifted the hood and did….something, appearing at the driver’s door, showing Dad the dip stick, resting it in display on a really cool red rag, then tucking that rag in his back pocket. Letting half of it stick out……cool.
Sometimes he’d go to the rack of oil, grab wunna the glass bottles with astainless steel spout, and pour in a bit of oil.
Then he’d spray the windshield with some sorta soapy liquid, wiping all that off with the magic blue towel until the grime and streaks was totally gone. All the while talking about the weather or the ‘goddamm Yankees’, or Joe Louis.
And he had BO…yeah, real big guy aroma…..wow.
Man, I wanted to be him, only I’d strap on a gun, as that was the only thing he was missing.
What a cool job!
Just doin’ that all day long.
‘Check ‘at oil?’
‘Whuddaya think about them goddamm Yankees?’
tuck
wipe
pump
….kids in the back seat, lookin’ at me in awe…wide eyes ogling my holster…and ivory gun handle….and red rag.
One day me and Dad were headin’ down the road.
Just him and me,
and he sez, ‘Whaddya wanna be when you grow up?’
‘A service station guy!’
Things kinda turned south right then.
Dads.
Go figure.
Whud he do for a living? Work in a warehouse?
Prolly jealous.
After that, I never shared my true thoughts with him….for years….decades maybe.
Heh, turns out folks rather frown on service stations guys….with guns.
But, hey, if that ever happens……..
