View Larger MapThe first time I was stationed at Ft. Lewis, I was assigned as a cook to the 525th Replacement Company, A.K.A. the Repo-Depot. This was the first place troops coming to the place went as the got in-processed and sent off to their units.
It was an old building – probably fifty years old at that time. On the above map, if you zoom in a bit, the building I lived and worked in from, roughly, October 1976 to November 1977 is northeastern most section of the building to the southeast of Pendleton and 7th.
This is where I had my Honda 50 Mini-trail. (These photos are of a reproduction model)
I road that thing all over the base and back on the logging roads. It was a blast--until I missed a jump over a log and cracked the exhaust right at the head.
I was not well-liked by my superiors here. I was fairly rebellious. And weird. And a young punk. While here, I got busted for possession. I had made a multi-chambered pipe out of several toilet paper tubes and straws. It was wicked bad. I tested it in the room - big mistake, as the smoke it generated was unreal. The Charge of Quarters (CQ) Sergeant came by and was digging through my trash can, trying to find a roach or something. He left, and I thought that was it, though just to be safe, I took all my paraphernalia out to the woods and stashed it.
The next day, I was summoned from work to return to me room. The C.O., X.O, and First Sergeant were there, and they went through my room. They found a bottle of Wild Turkey 101—which I was not supposed to have in my room. That was about it. Just as they were leaving though, the X.O. picked up my jacket. On the sleeve of the jacket I has sewed a NORML patch. As soon as she picked it up, I remembered that I’d stashed a joint inside of it—pushed through a small area where it wasn’t sewn. (Note to Potheads. Stashing drugs inside something that advertises drug use is not a good idea.)
So I got busted. I got an Article 15, which is basically the military form of a plea bargain. It’s kind of like, “sign ze confession, und ve’ll only kill you a little bit.” I was advised to sign. I had no friggin excuse. The funny thing is that having the bottle of Turkey was a bigger crime than the dope – Disobeying a Lawful Order vs. Possession of a Controlled Substance, to wit; Marihuana*. I lost a month’s pay, got a suspended demotion, restricted to barracks and place of worship, and two weeks of extra-duty.
My First Sergeant, a Congressional Medal of Honor recipient, was a mean ass sonofabtich, and much feared around post. As a CMH wearer, he had to be saluted by everyone, even officers (so rumor had it.) I saw him crack down on Majors, even, who were out of uniform, or out of line. After the bust, he called me in his office. I was shitting bricks. But he told me, basically, “You’re a good kid, Raab-Faber. You just hang out with a bunch of hoodlums. Get with the program.” He ended up being an ally later on down the road.
Until then, though, I was something of an outcast. I had a few friends that I hung out with, but nothing big. My roommate was a farm boy from Carnation, Washington, and on weekends he was gone home to work at his girlfriend’s dad’s place. It was just me.
And then, one day….
NEXT UP: Picking with Mike
* It seems that for a while afterward, we all called pot “To Wit”
Back when I lived in Memphis, a friend of mine in grade school and I used to go to Lakeland nearly every weekend. I would spend the night on saturday and his dad would take us on sundays. All day saturday, we would do 'fire' burnouts on the sidewalk. Pour out about half a gallon of gas, add about 5 strike-any-where matchs and the roll over them and 'spin' the back tire to light the matchs and fuel. Phhooof...flames-a-plenty. And on a stingray no less. We saw TV Tommy Ivo, Gene Snow and Don Schomacher, the 'Flying Hawiian'. Life was good and the track was better. Rick is working on bringing the full effect of Lakeland to Moonpie. Stay tuned.
Rick always like 'lot's of power' in his motorcycles. This is one he had built in Germany but he didn't want to pay the freight to have it shipped state side so he sold it and bought the Honda 50 when he got to the states.
OK, Screw that Yamaha SR400 I posted before. This Triumph - mix of 1948 Speed Twin and 1950s bobber - is ultra sweet. I'm not a huge fan of the pipes on it, but otherwise...
I got my offer of a Teaching Assistantship today, meaning that I'm gong to get paid to go to graduate school. You can read all about this on my OTHER blog, Dick Chingadero's Candy Wrapper," which has recently been revamped to cover issues relating to my MFA journey, writing and reading resources, literary quotes, Grad School info, where to sell stories, and all kinds of gaytarded shit. Go check it out if you can't sleep.
BEHOLD, WE HAVE JUST UNCOVERED THE 'OFFICIAL MOONPIE CHRONICELS' VAN. Not only does this thing look tits, it hauls ass! I wish I had the talent to build something like this. Note the side exhaust just in front of the rear tire. The chopped top, the Cragar wheels and the full around windows make this a jewel.
While Rick was terrorizing the Army post in Washington state with his Honda 50, I was dazzling crowds with my "Mini-bike Thrill Show". Under the watchful eye of promoter Grandaval "The Earl" Kirk, we toured 17 States in 34 days and did 117 shows. My back still hurts a little bit and a girl stole my teeth at the Motel in Arkansas. Here, at a show in Great Bend, Kansas I came up a little short on my jump because I forgot to turn the gas on and ran out of fuel just as I reached the peak of the ramp. But hey, all-in-all, it was a great experience and I hope I never have to do that again.
I can't for the life of me figure out why I would rather be anywhere else but work. I guess that's life in the 'big city'. My friend Larry often says, "I have glaucoma of the rectum, I can't see my ass at work today." With so much life going on out there, kids, grand kids, a wife and Moonpie, I feel I could be doing sooo much more. Balance. They tell me to have balance in my life that I must prioritise. Hmmmm, what is most important? Well, that changes on an hourly basis it seems to me, dosen't it? I mean, right now, the most important thing for me to do is order plant material for upcoming jobs. O.K., I've done MOST of the ordering, just not all of the orders. Order plants, fill out insurance papers, call the kids, call the wife(twice a day because I want to), mow the grass before it rains, check appointment book, schedule tomorrows work and blog on Moonpie, the list goes on. Everything IS important if you think about it, both work and the play. Balance. I guess people say that I want to play too much and not get serious about work or other things, maybe. Maybe today I'll finally let go the nagging feeling that if a job dosen't get done tomorrow, it's not the end of the world, even though it feels that way to me.
A moment of silence please.........
I road that thing all over the base and back on the logging roads. It was a blast--until I missed a jump over a log and cracked the exhaust right at the head.
Due to the outstanding response to our "Let my Moonpie Go" posting for Easter (We got three responses -- big for us) we're releasing an extremely limited edition T-shirt featuring one of our favorite quotes "Where's your Moses now?" along with custom hand-crafted cut and paste artwork by Veed. 
Fo those of you who read this blog because of it's Memphis connection, here's a little tidbit for you. This is from Thursday's Albuquerque Journal. 
