A Bit Of History On Wooley
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My friend, Billy Jones of www.bloggingpoet.com, did something along these lines on his site. He is a three time published author and pretty soon a fourth book is coming out. Of course I'm no where as traveled as that old scooter tramp is but I'm working on it. Don't think I'd follow in his footsteps exactly as his road has had some mighty big potholes to climb out of. For Billy though all those pot holes are what made him who he is I reckon.
My father, who was a Navy lieutenant and pilot at the time, was on leave in California when he saw my mother, who was on vacation from her job with the FBI, on the beach. He whistled at her as she passed by because she had sexy legs. She winked back at him and after a sister and two brothers born between sea duty and a move to Georgia I was born last. ( I've been last every since)
I was born in 1962 in a small hospital (Kennestone General Hospital) in Smyrna Georgia. I was the runt for years as my older brothers ate like pigs and I got the scraps. And, I had to fight the dogs for those.
Pops had a friend who owned a Harley Davidson dealership and Jim and his wife would ride their bikes over to the house and my oldest brother and I would ogle the gleaming machines while they were parked out back. We also had an uncle who rode a variety of road bikes and he would ride from Michigan to Georgia to visit. One time we visited his hippy pad in Michigan and and became spellbound viewing his two choppers and one Honda in the rickety garage.
Later my parents divorced while I was still young and my father remarried. She is a wonderful women who most during my youth and today believe she is my maternal mother. If not for her I would not be here today. This union brought me two more brothers and another sister. All of them older than me so I still got stuck with being the youngest and now even farther down the feeding chain. They all ate like a barn yard full of pigs. My brothers used to pull pranks on me and one even used to beat my ass and torment me which made me into a much angrier teen ager who did some not so nice things.
During highschool I worked in a Hospital keeping the emergency room clean for the next victim. Moved on to a construction company then went to work at an aluminum extrusion company and worked my way up from sweeping floors and doing warehouse work to driving trucks. I was promoted and moved into the office and over the years went from sales to collections and finally to warehouse manager.
Not long after being at the extrusion company my tormenting brother and I made amends after a few years when we had a (small) confrontation in our parents den. After that we watched each others backs and became close.
We road motorcycles together, hopped up our cars, tried to steal each others women and partied together. Can't remember just how many pool halls and biker bars I hung out at back then. A friend from highschool, which I road with, introduced me to some hardcore bikers over in the Stone Mountain area. Had some good times hanging with that group. I met an Outlaw at work fresh out of prison and we did some partying as well. (Did a write up on this here blog about him sometime back).
In 1984, on Columbus day, someone stole my Harley off of one of my bud's carport in the middle of the night. We found a place at the end of the driveway where they dropped it and left some of the fresh red paint on the asphalt with some of her oil. We were in the middle of replacing the primary chain when she was taken. Not long after that I acquired my Panhead basket case for a mere five hundred bucks. Did I mention it was a basket case?
I've owned several cars over the years. My favorites were my 1966 Ford galaxy with it's 390 , dual exhaust and dealer installed under dash air conditioner. That air conditioner blew so cold it would freeze you out of the car. My next favorite car was my 1975 Camaro. I pulled out the weak 350 and installed a 396 with a transmission from a vette. It was an easy swap with only a minor modification made to the tranny cross mount and moving it back a tad to bolt up to the sub frame and tranny mount. The engine was putting out around 500 horsepower and was topped with some finned aluminum vette valve covers and an 850 double pumper carburetor. With the mufflers uncapped she sounded like a freight train coming at you. She'd smoke the tires with ease but she was a bit front end heavy. She'd haul ass!
Years later I moved to North Carolina, got married, had a son, worked at a waste treatment plant, worked for the Police Department then went back into a trucking firm.
A few years ago I began writing for GarageChoppers which no longer exists and I've also tried concert promotion. There are two stories in the works on my computer at this time and juggling two at once is keeping me busy. I hope to have one in print so I can brag to my friend Billy about it. I've also got a magazine on the back burner but can't get any help on getting it off the ground.
At this time I'm working at a machine shop and trying to figure out how to make my dream ride come together.