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Favorite Memory From Childhood


Steel Shank

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Brisket's story about his mom letting him stay in a fishing cabin alone for three days at the age of 9 gave me this idea (on the "Hey, Steel Shank" thread). What was your favorite or most profound memory (positive) from your childhood. Giving this some thought, it's hard to say what was "most", so maybe pick one or two. 

One of my favorites was me and my sister standing in the front seat of my Dad's Thunderbird blasting at high speeds down a dirt road on the South Plains while he sang Bill Withers. The windows were down and we were hollering and laughing and he was enjoying the moment too.

What makes you smile looking back?

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Brisket's story about his mom letting him stay in a fishing cabin alone for three days at the age of 9 gave me this idea (on the "Hey, Steel Shank" thread). What was your favorite or most profound memory (positive) from your childhood. Giving this some thought, it's hard to say what was "most", so maybe pick one or two. 
One of my favorites was me and my sister standing in the front seat of my Dad's Thunderbird blasting at high speeds down a dirt road on the South Plains while he sang Bill Withers. The windows were down and we were hollering and laughing and he was enjoying the moment too.
What makes you smile looking back?

1st time I got drunk was The Summer between 8th grade and Freshman year (1997). My Dad, Mom and sister had already moved from Taylor to Frisco and I got to stay in Taylor for the Summer with my grandparents to play all-star baseball. Grandparents gave me no curfew or any boundaries so I did whatever the hell I wanted. Buddy of mine lived on a farm in Circleville right on the San Gabriel. We camped on a gravel bar about 10 feet from the river and I drank probably 6-7 bud lights. I was so hammered my buddies were putting cigarettes out on my legs and I couldn’t feel it. I had little circles on my legs for weeks.

I’d go back to that time every day if I could.


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Good thread.  I was around 8 and have a younger sister.  My Grandpa just showed up at our house in Ft. Worth during the summer and asked my Mom if he could take us on a day trip.  She practically strapped us in the car.

He drove us to Johnson City to the LBJ ranch.  We stopped at some hill country spot along the way and I had CFS (white gravy with extra pepper) for the first time with a real coke. Whenever I hear "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" it brings up the memory.  According to the tour it was LBJ's favorite song.  

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Dad ran a Chevy with a camper shell. Put the tube between the cab and shell, opened up the split window for air to the rear. Us kids rode on a piece of plywood running across the bed with a piece of foam and sheet on top. Homemade trailer at the rear carried food and fishing equipment. Left DFW early while still dark. Stopped at the Best Western in Trinidad on day 1, drove into Gunnison forest the next morning.

Edited by LW Goatman
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my best friend from elementary school would give me a ride on the handle bar of his bmx bike to and from school. back then we had to walk to school you fucking millennial pussies, but i digress. one time coming home from school, i was pedaling while he was sitting on the handle bar. i thought it would be funny to sneak off the bike and let it ghost ride with him on the handle bar. he and the bike crashed into a light pole. one of the funniest things i've ever witnessed. he laughed so hard he pissed his pants.

 

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6 minutes ago, crash_davis said:

my best friend from elementary school would give me a ride on the handle bar of his bmx bike to and from school. back then we had to walk to school you fucking millennial pussies, but i digress. one time coming home from school, i was pedaling while he was sitting on the handle bar. i thought it would be funny to sneak off the bike and let it ghost ride with him on the handle bar. he and the bike crashed into a light pole. one of the funniest things i've ever witnessed. he laughed so hard he pissed his pants.

 

Username... PERFECT!

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Riding with my grandfather in his t100 to go to Ace. Then we'd head out to Little Fossil Creek, or go shoot bbs at turtles or floating cans to make them sink. We'd also listen to Sneaky Snake a lot.
 

Love Tom T and love Sneaky Snake.


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Me and my best friend Peter decided to make a go-kart, we were bored, around 10 years old, and his dad was an architect and had plenty of scrap wood in his garage. Over a week or so we had pieced together this rudimentary kart, the steering consisted of a straight board that could pivot, the wheels fixed to either end. Came time to test it and it was determined I would be the test pilot for its maiden voyage and the hill on Possum Trot St in Austin would serve as the launching point. I'm scared as shit but acting as confident as I could muster and I get on the thing and he nudges me off. I remember it got going a lot faster than I wanted a lot faster than I expected and there's a turn at the bottom of the hill. I get towards the bottom at the turn and see a white vw bug coming straight at me and it was at this point I realize we had never even considered any sort of braking system. So I steer towards the curb on the right and dive out right as it's about to hit the curb and going flying into a patch of reeds that nicked my arms and face up pretty good. The guy in the bug stops and gets out and I'm thinking he's going to call the cops or something so I start running and find somewhere to hide and finally make my way home. Peter had seen it all from the top of the hill and took off running back home, just left me. Was scary as hell back then but looking back I'm sure the guy in the bug saw me way before I saw him and stopped and watched and then got out to see if I was ok. We went back the next day and the kart was in the same place but someone had moved it off the street. That was our first and last attempt at a kart.

 

 

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24 minutes ago, tfoolry said:

This bike

spacer.png

Holy shit, there's so much going on there . . .

Banana seat, front shock absorber, rear shock absorber, fenders, two sizes of wheels, 5 speed derailleur, drum brake on the front, caliper on the back, shift lever.  

Edited by Bullneck
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Just being the son of a Marine, growing up on bases like Quantico and Camp Lejeune, constantly watching helicopters flying over my neighborhood and having to stop for tank crossings on our way to the beach. A childhood I wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world.

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Going to nasty ass Buffalo Springs Lake with my grandfather and staying at the cabin, fishing, skiing, hiking the canyons, and having a blast with my cousins. 

See also: family reunions at the Oddfellows Lodge campground in the Manzano Mountains just SE of Albuquerque.   Playing hide &seek, riding 3-wheelers( and living to tell about it!,) camping out under the stars with cousins, and helping the men cook breakfast on a long open pit, wood fired griddle.  That smell of campfire and eggs/ pancakes cooking will take me back to those times in a heartbeat.

Edit: just read Shooter's post.  same deal.

Edited by Iceman
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47 minutes ago, South Austin said:

Just being the son of a Marine, growing up on bases like Quantico and Camp Lejeune, constantly watching helicopters flying over my neighborhood and having to stop for tank crossings on our way to the beach. A childhood I wouldn’t trade for all the money in the world.

I'm almost Fiddy years old.  The little boy in me still stops and looks at any plane/helicoptor/ ship/ barges/ trains.

The sound of a single engine plane flying over somehow takes me back to being a youth, laying on the trampoline or on the grass and dreaming into the clouds and sky.  It hearkens back to a 'less worrisome' time.

Edited by Iceman
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1 hour ago, Iceman said:

I'm almost Fiddy years old.  The little boy in me still stops and looks at any plane/helicoptor/ ship/ barges/ trains.

The sound of a single engine plane flying over somehow makes me thing of being a youth, laying on the trampoline or on the grass and dreaming into the clouds and sky.  It hearkens back to a 'less worrisome' time.

I thought I was the only person who would watch an airplane fly overhead.  People probably think I'm some kind of simpleton for doing it, but i find it fascinating.

Edited by Bullneck
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1 hour ago, Bullneck said:

I thought I was the only person who would watch an airplane fly overhead.  People probably thing I'm some kind of simpleton for doing it, but i find it fascinating.

When I worked on the the docks 3 years ago. There was always  fighter jets that you could hear taking off from PDX and race across the sky and land back at PDX. I don't get to see them or hear them as often since I work further away, but I'd just stop to listen to them race across the sky doing thier flights on the Willemette River.

https://portlandmofo.com/jets-over-portland/

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10 hours ago, BurntEyes said:

tenor.gif.369b26dba517a4c7dc75ddebd2b09772.gif

Did you fish the Taylor? 

If so, that fucking proves it. You are my damn sock. Jack ass.

I'm pretty sure we all passed each other at some point in time. Vacation for my mom and dad was fishing for 10 days in Creede. At an old hunting lodge called Broadacres a  few miles west of Creede. The lake was about 20' from the cabin door, Rio Grande a few hundred yards away and stream fishing at the back of the stream fed lake. No television, no radio. Drove me crazy when I was a kid, but I would do it now in a heartbeat. Except when we did it in the 60's it was $8 a night. I checked into it a few years ago and someone from California bought it. They tore all the log cabins down, built a lodge with a to cater to the upscale anglers and charge about $500 a day to stay there and fish. 

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14 minutes ago, Iceman said:

My first bike was very similar to this.  The rear tire was a "slick."   Always that that was so cool.  Rode the shit out of that thing...

img_8637-jpg.648881

Sweet ride for imitating our 70s idol Evel Knievel. 

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1 hour ago, Bullneck said:

Price range for these things now is in the $1,600 to $2,500.

 

s-l1600.jpg

 

 

Holy smokes.  I had one like that with a purple metal flake finish and a white seat.  Loved that bike and totally wore that thing out..

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1) Grew up dirt-ass poor.  One day my parents take us to a restaurant called Po Folks in Richardson.  We NEVER got to eat out.  So, we're sitting there thinking this is the greatest day ever when they drop the bomb.  "Hurry up and finish eating.  We're headed to Six Flags."  

2) Grandfather was a lineman for SW Bell.  I spent most of one summer with him in the Hill Country.  He would drive to Wimberly, Llano, Marble Falls, etc... Sunday night and come back to Brownwood Friday evening.  We stayed in either a cabin or a trailer in one of the state parks.  He'd go to work; I'd fish, explore.  On his days off, I'd float down the Blanco river or inner tube at Canyon Lake.  

3) Not to be cheesy, but I swear one of my greatest memories was getting my acceptance letter to UT.  From about age 6, this was my goal.  Hell, I didn't even enjoy high school because my focus was the day I'd set foot on the 40.

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I think it was the time four of us cut school jr year (‘95) and drove down to Schlitterbahn 2hrs away. We smoked, listened to music and drank on the way down. On the way and while driving we flagged down another car on I-35 with 4 hot chicks in it that went to SouthWest Texas State. We got their numbers although nothing came of it. While in the park it was amazing. I was 16, flush with cash from my first job and there with my heathen friends instead of my family for the first time. We met some insanely hot lifeguards (something came of that). We also met a group of other girls which would become our go to fuck buddies well into our 20s. It would seem that Schlitterbahn in the mid 90s was basically Tinder for under age kids and we fell ass backwards into it on one golden day. We stayed till close and we chased out of town by the fascist New Braunfels police after a store clerk refused to sell my friend cigarettes. I used my friends Motorola cell phone (gasp!) to call my house and because we didn’t have Caller-ID, I was able to lie to her and say I was at my friends house. We arrived home and grabbed a bite at Sonic where we ran into some girls we knew from school. They can back with us to my friends house and that’s the night I started dating my Highschool sweetheart.

haven't thought about that day in a long time... 

 

Edited by Doc Reeves
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33 minutes ago, BurntEyes said:

I remember Po Folks. Not with any specific details but when I read the name and that it was in Richardson a light bulb went off.

As an adrenaline junkie even in youth, trips to Six Flags, Disney World and Knott's Berry Farm in CA were like first crack smoking high moments in my youth.

I was a junior in HS when UT accepted me. I was an arrogant little shit head and acted like, yeah, knew that shit was happening. Kept it to myself that it was magical.

Same here.  Junior as well.  I f'd off my senior year so bad, there was a point that I worried I wouldn't get a diploma.  And by "f'd" off, I played basketball before school, 1st period, lunch, 6th period, and after school. 

The Po Folks in Richardson was just west of I-75 on Spring Valley.  It was on the right side about 1/3 of the way to Coit.  Apparently, there are still some Po Folks in the Deep South - southern Alabama, Florida panhandle.

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20 hours ago, Steel Shank said:

Brisket's story about his mom letting him stay in a fishing cabin alone for three days at the age of 9 gave me this idea (on the "Hey, Steel Shank" thread). What was your favorite or most profound memory (positive) from your childhood. Giving this some thought, it's hard to say what was "most", so maybe pick one or two. 

One of my favorites was me and my sister standing in the front seat of my Dad's Thunderbird blasting at high speeds down a dirt road on the South Plains while he sang Bill Withers. The windows were down and we were hollering and laughing and he was enjoying the moment too.

What makes you smile looking back?

it would have to be that time I boned my 8th grade teacher. She was smoking hot. And before you think "gross!" I should add that my parents held me back 4 times, so I was more mature than most.

Sorry Steel Shank, I see you're trying to go legit, but this response is your legacy. Embrace it.

Edited by Degenerate Gardner
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1) Getting home from road trips and pretending to be asleep so my dad could carry me inside.

2) Going on road trips. We also had a pickup with a topper shell with the plywood divider to sleep on. We would drive all over Texas and make stops in small towns to sightsee mundane shit on the way to our destinations. 

3) Garner Park. We’re from South Texas so Garner was only about 1.5 hours away. We would go about 5 times a year. We would swim, paddle boat or rope swing all day then hang out at the pavilion listening to music at night. When I became a teenager I would go with my friends and basically do the same thing but with a couple of Party Balls in tow to take it to the next level. When I was 16 I traded a Texxas Jam concert T-shirt for some ass from a 28 year old woman from Colorado. She really loved the shirt, I really loved that ass. 

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Playing baseball and fishing all summer. I'd give anything to go back to those days just me and my cousin both 11 or 12 by ourselves on a boat on our uncle's lake all fucking day without a care in the world and zero adult supervision. Good times. Just a little north of Salina, KS.

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When I was in 2nd and 3rd grade, we lived in Durango, and my mom was teaching at Ft. Lewis College, so in the summer, she put me in a day camp run by some of her students. "Wilson Gulch" the place was called -- two ponds to swim or canoe in, settled in a valley with the Animas river running straight through it, wild mint fields everywhere, a really cool tree fort, and oh, by the way, the counselors were a bunch of hippie freak clothing optional girls, and my mom never had a clue.

I still smile just seeing the word "Colorado".

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4 hours ago, TwiceHorn said:

If it was a Schwinn, it was a Lemon Peeler.

Apple Krate, Orange Krate, Lemon Peeler, Fastback (not choppered), StingRay Deluxe (5speed).

It was yellow and a 5 speed. Probably Lemon Peeler because I was thinking banana peel. It was a long time ago.

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5 hours ago, BurntEyes said:

Ha, I see you're fucking off and raise you:

I was in AP English (which I had already placed out of the test), 4th Year German, AP Anatomy.. and... Wait for it...

Work Study Program

My afternoons were spent working at a car stereo store (think late 80s) when there was work for me. (And I made mad money)

In my defense had taken Chemistry at Harvard on the Highway where my mom used to work between junior and senior year and had already tested out of first year "Math".

I nearly lost my scholly money and my mom is still pissed I never took the SAT again after my Soph year. For, more money and options. 

So I had realized that nobody - including my teacher - said anything about me missing a few 6th period tech classes that consisted of learning an different office machine every 6 weeks.  By March of my senior year, I just stopped going.  There was a gym at the far side of the high school that nobody every checked.  I just played bball to my heart's content.  Then, about 2 weeks before graduation, I learned that missing more than X amount of classes could be grounds for losing one's diploma.  I was terrified for a week until I saw my name on the "good" list.

 

3 hours ago, usmc0331horn said:

Playing baseball and fishing all summer. I'd give anything to go back to those days just me and my cousin both 11 or 12 by ourselves on a boat on our uncle's lake all fucking day without a care in the world and zero adult supervision. Good times. Just a little north of Salina, KS.

This as well.  It's odd how one's brain can retain certain memories extremely well and detailed.  I recall - circa 6th grade - heading to 7/11 on a game day, playing Super Mario Brothers for an hour, drinking a Slurpee, all while wearing my uniform for that night's game.    

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There are lots of memories, I can remember many early glimpses from my childhood, but one always seems to come back to me as a moment in my life that I wouldn't have the opportunity to experience more than a handful of times at best.

It's 1966 or 67, I'm about 4 or 5 I guess. It's winter, and we'd just had a big snowstorm (8-14"). To a little kid that's like an Arctic blizzard, and up to your waist deep.

I was staying at my cousins house, I was the baby, the youngest at the time, so I was still doted on a bit more than my older cousins.  The storm has passed, and it's a freezing,  but beautiful, crystal clear, blue bird sky day.  Everything is covered in a thick blanket of white: roads, houses, trees, cars.  We're outside, and I'm sitting on a Flexible Flyer sled (I think that sled was still in my cousins dads garage when he died a couple years ago).  To a kid that age/size it felt like there was 10' of snow.

My older cousin is pulling me on the sled, the sun is so brilliant reflecting off the snow, it's almost blinding. I have this memory of just being excited, and giddy to be outside in the snow, and having the time of my life. Nothing but the ride around the block on that sled mattered, because I was allowed to go with the older boys, it was so beautiful, and cold.  It was dreamlike, it was like being on a dog sled as my cousin ran down the road pulling me along, the cold slapping my face, my eyes hurting from the sun shining off of everything, and refracting like a kaleidoscope. To this day I still have that vivid memory of that moment tattooed in my head like no other moment in my life, and that includes my wedding day, and my kids being born.

 

Edited by Onboard 2.0
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Summers in the mid 1950s at my grandparents in a small (150 population) town in very rural NW Missouri, playing with my cousins,  riding around town on theIr Shetland ponies, shooting air rifles & .22s at any poor critter that we came across in the nearby woods & ponds, riding the homemade cart with steel wheels & a Model A steering wheel around inside the big auto repair garage that Grandpa owned (annoying his mechanic so much that he put pneumatic tires on it), peeking through the outhouse knotholes at the girls inside, shooting up unlimited free fireworks (Grandma sold them at her cafe) on July 4th, cherry bomb fights, watching Grandma decapitate chickens for dinner by whirling them around and cracking them like a whip, spending the day out at the family farm messing around and having a huge dinner at the end of the day. Going to the County fair with its hokey midway and rattletrap carnival rides, cotton candy, etc.  spending a week or so at Dad’s college friend’s ranch near Muldrow, Oklahoma, shooting frogs & turtles around his ponds, hunkering down in the root cellar several nights in a row while torandoes passed close by, discovering his pile of Playboy magazines sitting in plain sight on a corner table and spending the afternoon drooling at Marilyn Monroe’s titties. 

Early 1950s living at Fort Brooke in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico, playing pirates all over the ancient El Morro fortress one block from our quarters, being a member of the Junior Military Police on the day when we got to “run” the post (I drew Main Gate duty),  Cub & Boy Scout camping at El Yunque National Rain Forest (shaking big scorpions out of our cot bedrolls in the morning), riding the glass bottom boat at night across Phosphorescent Bay watching the ghostly fish swimming beneath, climbing coconut trees in our yard to knock them down so we could husk them & punch open to drink the milk, playing doctor with the girl next door - before we got caught one time, watching the tall ships sail into the harbor during their summer training cruises, going to watch movies at the outdoor post theater ( a pavilion cover over the seating area), taking my dog Wimpy over to the PX and watching him run into a brushy area to chase a bunch of stray cats that colonized it (occasionally killing one), big excitement getting out of school early one day at the Navy base and having our bus escorted home by Jeeps with machine guns because of the local rebel uprising, then told to stay in quarters - we could hear the shooting when a handful of said rebels tried to break into the Fortaleza Governor’s mansion three or four blocks from our back gate ( they were all killed, IIRC). That’s about the same time that terrorist group shot up the US House of Representatives and tried to assassinate Harry Truman..
 

Late 1940s, riding around Camp Hood ( now Fort Hood) training area in WW2 era tanks - Dad was a 2nd Armored Battalion commander, later got a regiment - going to the first soft serve ice cream joint (pre Dairy Queen) in the area - swimming in a creek during the summer to cool off, as there was no A/C in any of the barracks-type quarters. 

Edited by Armybrat
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As a little kid I got to travel with my grandparents everywhere.  By the time I was 9 I had been to over 40 states and 3 countries.  Christmas was also good we had a large family and presents and drunk people spilled out all over the floor.   As a teenager, I loved the music.  Been to countless concerts, but regret not seeing Kiss and the B52s.  Also my crush at the time planted a big ol' kiss on me unexpectedly.

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