The Move

During the sixth grade, things took a turn for the worse with dad’s business.  Long story short, dad’s shop was the biggest in Colorado Springs...some Mafia boys moved in and got tired of losing all the jobs to dad...they said give us some jobs or your going to go away...dad lets them...gas moratorium goes into affect, Colorado Springs construction goes down the tubes, dad files bankruptcy, sells business and we have a huge garage sale and move.

        That move took us out of the house I basically grew up in for six years and put us in a Manufactured Housing Community on the other side of Sinton Road about six miles away.

        The community and the house were pretty nice actually.  There was a pool and clubhouse, all brand new, and a huge green fairway right behind the house.  Unfortunately, because of school zoning, this meant that I would be going to a different school than my friends when seventh grade came around.  In the mean time, the elementary school let me finish the last half of school there.  This meant that I had to ride my trusty Stingray six miles to school and back...no kidding, and going to school was actually up hill all the way.  It was a nifty ride though.  I found alot of cool places to play.  The best place was an open dirt area up under the freeway underpass.  You could walk all the way up the concrete side to the top and then step down into the dugout area right there by the concrete freeway.  It was really cool when the semis would go by because the whole place shook and the noise was awesome.

        Another place was out in the field by the community.  There was a large drainpipe (about six feet in diameter) that started in a ditch by Sinton Road.  I would take a flashlight and walk the entire length of the pipe until it came out the other end that overlooked the river down by the railroad tracks.  There was always water in the pipe and mice just loved it here.  This pipe obviously took all of the rainwater and drained it by the river.  Along with the water, it took garbage, sticks, rocks, Etc.  A person could potentially find some cool things if you dug around in the muck.  When you got to the river end of the pipe, you had to crawl up and around the pipe, swing over to a tree, and then jump to the bank so you wouldn’t fall in the water.  Once you made it to the bank, the entire world was yours.  Nobody ever came down here except the homeless or the bums.  At that time though, you have to realize that we didn’t have the same view of homeless or bums as we do now.  Nobody was afraid of them or thought alot about them.  They were just there and they never seemed to bother anybody.

        Anyway, Eric and I always ended up down here most of our spare time.  The thing to do was to put the proverbial penny on the track and let the freight trains run them over.  We would put the coins on the track and then run for cover.  The running was funnier than the penny squishing.  Later when I ended up going to Junior High in town, these freight trains came in handy, as you will see.

        Eric and I spent as much time as we could together.  Six miles wasn’t that far away with bikes.  We would ride all over the neighborhood or adventure out to the K-Mart store or the Red Barn convenient store on the other side of the world...so it seemed.  Actually it was down on “Garden Of The Gods” road about six miles away.

        That last summer before Junior High, Eric stayed over the house for the night and we “camped out” on the fairway by the house.  As we were lying there talking, we both started to see what we thought were falling stars or a Meteor shower (cuz there were so many of them).  The thing is, is that these “falling stars” were all different colors.  Colors like blue, red, green, orange, yellow, and a little slower than your average falling star.  Oh well, that was cool we thought and went on yapping.  The next morning though, the paper had reported the same lights over Colorado Springs.  Tons of people had seen them but nobody knew what they were.  UFOs?  Nobody ever did find out and of course, the military denied everything.  Perhaps this was my first honest to gosh UFO sighting...who knows.

        Well, summer came, went, and school started.  All of my long time friends were going to West Junior High just around the corner.  I however had to go to North Junior High, which was a good fifteen miles from home and located in what you would call “the Barrio” or “the hood” nowadays.  I hated that school.  You want minority?  I was it.  I think they taught English as a second language.

        The biggest thing I remember about that school was Mr. Kordula, my shop teacher.  He reminded me alot of Jimmy Perry’s dad but with hair.

        We had a choice in shop on which section we wanted to take first.  You had metal craft, automotive, or drafting.  I took drafting.

        My first project was to draw the gothic letter “l” just like Mr. Kordula’s.  I drew the perfect duplicate of his work and was very proud of it.  Upon showing it to him though, he finally looked up and told me that “it sucked”.  He then told me that I deserved a “swat”.  A swat if you are unfamiliar with the term, is what all kids in school back then received when they were disruptive, mean, irritating, noisy, stupid, tall, short, black, white, yellow, or wore “stupid clothes”.  Just about anything got you a swat.

        The swat was done with a lovely piece of hand crafted oak in the shape of a bat, but flat.  It had a handle, which widened out into the swat zone.  The flat swat zone was then drilled full of precisely placed holes about one inch in diameter.  After taking up position in the front of the class (facing them) you would bend over and grab you ankles.  Then, depending on the nature of the crime, the teacher would then beat the crap or “spank” you rather hard as many times as they felt necessary.

        Thus was my punishment for doing a lousy drafted “l”.  I went to metal shop after that.  I heard that Mr. Kordula was fired some years afterward after student’s parents sued the school for this type of punishment.  The whole “swatting” thing disappeared not long after.  I will admit though, we didn’t see the kinds of behavior or trouble in schools as we do today.  Kids had respect for authority at least.

        Two years I went to that school.  During that time, I rode the bus to and from everyday.  One unusually bad winter, the busses were running behind schedule due to snow.  Our bus had finally loaded everyone up and the sun was already starting to go down.  About three-quarters of the way home, the driver took a bad turn and ended up off the road at a really cool angle..About 45 degrees tilt.  There was nothing we could do.  It was now dark and white out conditions were the norm.  Girls all over the bus started crying.  The guys wanted to go out and throw snowballs.  I, being wonderful and all started telling jokes to the driver and the captive audience to keep things lite.  Man I was good.  Before you know it, a truck drove up and pulled us out.  We were on our way.

        I remember a good joke I told...

        Yea, I’m sure that my mom is all worried and all and she’s probably got some chili and hot chocolate waiting for me...heh, heh, heh.  Yea I’ll walk in all cold and I bet I get cold ham sandwich!.  TA DA!...Oh man I was Good.

        After that, I rode the bus to school in the nicer weather but on several occasions, I hopped a freight train that made the rounds in town back home.  It came right behind the school and its route took me right to the drainpipe on the river.  How convenient!.  I was only about a half-hour later than the bus too.  Another thing mom doesn’t know.  I have alot of those.