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  • #76
    Originally posted by Kevin Mienke View Post
    The fire department likes to hire vererans of the Armed Forces. It is no wonder why.

    Growing up, I had a friend who did not have much in the way of skills. He didn't have boy scouts or little league. He didn't take industrial arts classes.

    He had no confidence.

    He didn't have any interests and he didn't have a mentor growing up. He joined the Marine Corps out of High School and came back a different man....full of confidence and skill.
    I remember a scene in the movie "Red Dawn" where the Boy Scouts was aluded to being a para-military organization. I found it funny at the time, but given the structured environment, uniforms, use of knives, and teaching of survival skills, I can now see how that distinction could be made.

    I consider my time in Scouts to have had a dramatic effect on my character. It made a differnce in so far as how I see the world, and how I interact with the people in it. It was a definite augmentation to the good sense I was developing as a young man. Plus, it was fun, and thats the best way to teach eager young minds.

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    • #77
      Originally posted by Kevin Mienke View Post
      He didn't have any interests and he didn't have a mentor growing up. He joined the Marine Corps out of High School and came back a different man....full of confidence and skill.
      I have seen this many times.

      Boys crave discipline. Boys who seem to be the most difficult to discipline are the ones who always end up joining the Marines.

      I have utmost respect for them. Just wish there weren't so many of them in harm's way right now.

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      • #78
        This quite a thread. I'm sorry to come in so late.
        As for number forty, A: "Of course not dear" (a smile turneth away wrath) B: "I'm sorry, I was looking at that truck" insert the object of your choice. As for C well, there are some things a gentleman doesn't discuss.
        Keep at it guys, I have expounded on the marginalization of the influence of "Men" in previous threads.

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        • #79
          I'd like to reccomend a book (yes I know that sounds cheesy, think of it as a manual instead of a book).

          It's titled The Way of the Wild Heart by John Eldridge.

          Manhood is bestowed upon an adolescent from other men. Not mom, not his peers, not the IN crowd at school, not his barbiedoll girlie, not by his high-fluting career, not by some academia board.

          This occurs in stages. Miss a stage and the finished product is defficient, not gonna work at it's (his) full potential.

          Just thought I'd throw that out since MAN is being referred to in places here.

          I'm gonna go back to kicking myself now,for no longer owning a PW & having it to "play" with in today's fresh snow.

          Bucky

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          • #80
            Originally posted by Jonas Smith View Post
            I thought of a few other good ones...


            If you are not a cowboy, don't wear the hat. If you wear the hat, you better be a cowboy.
            Ha! Ha!
            My Colorado cousins, ALL cowboys, took to wearing ball caps in the 70's.
            "What's the deal?"l I asked them.
            "We were tired of being mistaken for truck drivers." they replied....= )

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            • #81
              Originally posted by Gordon Maney View Post
              He teaches us quite a lot.
              That humbles me, considering all that I’ve learned from all of you since first coming to the PWA forums.

              I consider myself a student here. In fact, when I first looked at the forums I felt very inferior and thought that anything I might offer to a conversation would be insignificant. I waited and learned. I think I sat on the sidelines for about a year…just listening and learning.

              It’s been five years since then and I still sit out many discussions because I know the knowledge of some folks here far outweighs my own. I still enjoy sitting on the sidelines.

              It brings to mind a point that will fit in well with this thread.

              When I was a young fireman, my first station assignment out of drill school was with Engine 2 on Des Moines east side. I was at least a little intimidated going in. Correction, I was down right scared.

              The men of Engine 2 had a reputation as the city’s best. They were what we call “smoke eaters”. These guys didn’t just fight fires; they owned them.

              They were the roughest bunch of firefighters I ever worked with. I was fortunate to have them mentor me. They really set the tone for how I viewed my job and what I expected of myself in my job.

              I see the core of this forum group in the same light that I saw those firefighters. You have set the tone for me and I feel fortunate to have had your knowledge to guide me.

              Which brings me, at last, to the point….

              Sometimes, it’s not how much we know, but how much we’re willing to admit we don’t know. How much we’re willing to learn.

              We can bring ourselves a long way towards being the men we want to be if we are willing to learn.

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              • #82
                Funny you should post this...

                Right now I am working a 24 hour shift downtown Seattle at the busiesest fire station in the city, on the buisiest unit in the city. Aid car 5. Rowdy bunch of cats down here. Home of Engine 10, ladder 1, Air unit 9, and the Hazmat team. 11 runs so far, and it's a slow Sunday night. I'll be going up to my regular station in the Uof W district for 24 more hours tomorrow.

                I Love this job!

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                • #83
                  Originally posted by Jonas Smith View Post
                  I'll be going up to my regular station in the Uof W district for 24 more hours tomorrow.

                  I Love this job!
                  I worked in the Drake University district for a while. The hours between 2200 and 0300 were especially fun. No need to make your bunk at the firehouse.

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                  • #84
                    Originally posted by Jonas Smith View Post
                    Right now I am working a 24 hour shift downtown Seattle at the busiesest fire station in the city, on the buisiest unit in the city. Aid car 5. Rowdy bunch of cats down here. Home of Engine 10, ladder 1, Air unit 9, and the Hazmat team. 11 runs so far, and it's a slow Sunday night. I'll be going up to my regular station in the Uof W district for 24 more hours tomorrow.

                    I Love this job!
                    My personal thanks to Jonas and all the people who share his profession.
                    You may know that I was in Seattle recently, It was due to the fact that my mother suffered a severe heart attack on Dec 2 and was revived and stabilised by the paramedic crew in Renton where she has been living. They got her transported to Harbor View and were able to keep her ticking. At 87 years she is not a good candidate for open heart or even angioplasty . Despite that she has been able to be discharged and is now living in an adult care facility just blocks away from my sister's house in Renton. She was even able to spend Christmas with my sister and her family away from her care facility.
                    The guys like Jonas who run the Aid-Cars do a lot of good and it's not easy work. I stand in awe of their contribution to our society.

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                    • #85
                      Wow. Just got back from an assualt with weapons response. Guy got stabbed in the chest with a knife.
                      You know you are serious about things when you bury a knife in a guys chest. Up close and personal! LOL!!!

                      Run #13 for us and it's just past midnight... the night is young in the big city. Whats next? Hopefully breakfast, but I doubt it.

                      I suddenly feel to decon again.

                      Thanks Bob, I'm just so glad that society has a place for someone like me.

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                      • #86
                        cowboy hat??

                        I'm requesting an exemption to the Cowboy hat rule. When I drive the Border Patrol Ramcharger through the Home depot parking lot, wearing the Richard Petty wrap around sunglasses and White cowboy hat, the invaders scatter. Somehow I don't think my Roman legion helmet would be as effective.

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                        • #87
                          OK guys, I am going to attempt to inject some fun into this thread and tell the story of the theater troupe and their red Dodge.

                          The year was 1975. Your correspondent was one of a pack of teenagers running loose in a small Pa. town. In comparison to our parents, we were a little spoiled, not having to spend our childhood dealing with nuisances like the depression or World War II. Nevertheless, we weren't completely helpless. If we wanted things like cars or motorcycles, we had to work, buy clunkers, and fix them ourselves.

                          Our town was bounded by farms and deep dark woods. The terrain was very steep and hilly. Winters were long, and the springs were muddy. The ideal vehicle for rumbling about off road was the old Willys Jeep. My buddies and I would purchase non-concours examples for say, $200.00, and do our best to continue whatever abuse they had suffered.

                          Newer Jeeps, Scouts, and small Broncos were admired. Also M37s. Quads and rhinos had yet to be invented. Ditto for compact pickups. "Full size" pickups were not as full size as today, but short wheelbase 4WD models were rarely seen, and highly prized. Civilian Power Wagons were around, but were considered "farm trucks," too big and clumsy for our purposes.

                          There was a theater troupe in our town. It was populated by classy, poised, artistic, and quite beautiful girls, along with a gaggle of young men who had no particular interest in them, if you get my meaning. It was funded mostly by wives of important banking and insurance people, and, of course, car dealers. We were not members of this social circle, nor did we aspire to be.

                          The theater troupe needed a truck, and apparently, someone obliged. And what a truck it was! A 1971 Dodge, (last of that body style) short wheel base, 4WD, Sweptline bed. V8 with a four speed. Cherry red. Just the way you would order it. And in mint condition.

                          I stopped by one of my buddy's houses. He had an old Jeep station wagon, which he had converted to Ford V8 power, using the finest quality flex pipe and angle iron available. It was a rather ill-mannered beast, and he was always working on it.

                          He poked his head out from under the hood.

                          "Did you see the truck the theater people are driving?"

                          "Yep," I said.

                          "What an outrage."

                          "Yeah I know. But this is America. I guess they can drive whatever they want."

                          He had a point. It was like using a thoroughbred to pull a circus wagon.

                          (I will post this and continue with Part 2)

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                          • #88
                            Part 2.

                            The following year I started college. I drove school bus on rural routes on early morning and late afternoons, with class in between. I sometimes walked home for lunch.

                            One blustery winter day, I was walking up the street, and there was the red Dodge, stuck in a snow drift. A cute looking guy was behind the wheel. A middle aged woman was shoveling.

                            Common etiquetted demanded that I stop and help. On the other hand, I didn't want to get involved with these people, and only had an hour. Besides, it was a very capable truck, and didn't appear to be stuck very bad. I stared at the ground and walked briskly by.

                            I consumed my lunch and returned down the hill. The Dodge was still there. The middle aged woman was shoveling furiously now. The 318 was revving away like a two-stroke motorcycle. Not much else was happening.

                            I walked over to the driver's door. The pretty boy opened it.

                            "Um, I see you have a four wheel drive truck," I said.

                            "Do you think I'm stupid?" He snapped. The high pitched feminine voice made the hair of my neck stand up.

                            "No. I didn't say that. I just noticed that your truck is stuck and that the front axle isn't turning."

                            "I know that. The four wheel drive is broken."

                            "You have it all shifted in and everything?"

                            He nodded and put his hand on the transfer case lever.

                            "What about the front hubs. Did you engage them?"

                            "Look," he hissed, pointing to a paper sleeve on the sunvisor. "The pictures on the instructions show the hubs in a horizontal position. I checked them and they are right where they are supposed to be"

                            The wheels in my head started turning. What they told me, of course, was that the hubs turned with the wheels.

                            "Umm, would you like me to check them for you?" I asked.

                            "Don't you dare!" He said furiously. "You keep your grubby hands off this truck!"

                            "OK," I said. "Guess I'm out of here."

                            The woman intervened.

                            "Is there something you can do to get this truck out of here?" She asked.

                            "Of course," I said. "Turn those hubs and it will pull right out, without so much as spinning a tire."

                            "Then you do it." She said authoritatively.

                            I obliged.

                            I doubt if the Sox & Martin Hemi Cuda ever launched as decisively as that red Dodge bursting out of that snow drift. The truck flew off down the street, the driver not stopping or saying a word.

                            "Thank you." The middle aged woman said. She turned and walked back into her house.

                            I would see the woman around town once in awhile after that. She always smiled at me.

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                            • #89
                              Engagement?

                              Liked it, good story.

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                              • #90
                                Uuuhhhh.....

                                Lol!

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