Saturday, February 15, 2020

Finding that a friend from 25 years ago hasn't changed all that much through the years, just like me, and still has the same cool ol muscle car, just like me, is pretty cool.


See, all I remember from 1996-97 about Vito was that he was cool guy, in the Marines, stuck in the same barracks I was, and he had a cool 70 Nova witht eh license plate "Vitos 70". Yes, my memory is good with car related things.

So, recently a lot of history stuff popped up, like my 30th high school graduation anniversary, family tree research on ancestry .com, and I got to wondering what some guys I was in the Navy with were doing, and I remembered Vito, and his 70 Nova.

Notice way down that driveway in front of the 2 door garage, is a 70 Nova.

Pretty cool to find out that someone hung onto, either the same, or a similar, kick ass car that he had back when.

Yeah I tried a message on Facebook, and it didn't work, I think that just like me, he never notices the "message requests" tiny damn notification on Facebook. Serious, months go by without seeing that damn tiny check mark.

Or, like most people, he's like "Who the fuck is that?" when not recalling who the hell someone is after 25 years.

But that's not what this is about. This is about the cool factor of learning that some cool friend you had 25 years ago that you remember like, 4 things about, still has his kick ass Nova.

Seriously, if you were ever in the military, broke because you had a cool car (Car payment plus insurance plus gas = most of the bi-monthly paycheck. I think I was getting 350 every two weeks) and living in the fucking barracks, back when a vcr or tv cost a couple hundred bucks you didn't have plus cable was too damn much every month.

Call it the price you pay to be in the enlisted military, that shitty broke existence that people who understand just say, "yep, been there done that" cause there weren't credit cards, there wasn't shit to do except put your shitty paycheck into one thing. Beer, video games, clubbing to meet women who want to meet douchebags that club to meet women, or a cool old car that not only is fun to race at the local drag strip, it's also your daily commuter.

So you waste evenings watching tv in the barracks tv room, or shooting pool when no one has screwed up the pool table, busted the sticks, or torn the green. You hang out with other similar solid examples of the broke but cool guys with nothing to do. And now and then find some one who talks cars!

You know, there really aren't that many of our tribe. It's good to find a brother of the busted knuckles and cool cars tribe, and even better to see that he's kept his Nova since then, that time before the internet, when keeping in touch meant sending mail to weird invented military FPOs. So, not a lot of letters ever got written. People came and went and got transferred to other bases. 

2 comments:

  1. I know it well. Stationed in Camp Pendleton Ca before and during the 1st Gulf War. When I returned I bought . clapped out 65 Mustang from behind a garage my . Uncle used to pick up tires from ( he ran a used tire shop). Had the interior redone and had some minor body work fixed and painted a gun metal silver. Took every bit of the money i had but I was a Lance Corporal driving a classic Mustang!!!

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    1. I can't remember shit anymore (you probably knew that) and can't recall if we ever shot the shit, but my hat is off, fellow dept of the Navy enlisted! LOL, I had to, you know that right? It's a rule written somewhere on a Navy base... lol, give Marines hell about being paid by the Dept of the Navy... ha... it's to cover our admiration for you tough bastards. Us squid don't have to hit the fucking beach unless there's a bar on it, or repair parts. That's another rule I just made up.
      Anyway, right on, made a kick ass 65 Mustang, and was stationed at Pendelton... very cool.
      I was stationed at Miramar from 95-97 when we had to turn it over to the Marines, so they could get the fuck out of some hotter than shit base, and enjoy some San Diego cool temps.
      Then I was sent to Subbase Pt Loma (San Diego) for may last two years in, to get my ass back on a sub and earn a paycheck.
      My time for the year prior to getting here in San Diego was sending money home so my parents could take my '69 Super Bee around to a couple places to get the engine rebuilt, and the trans, and the body painted. I get home for a month after my first sub, rebuilt the brakes, suspension, put on tires, new headlights and new carpet... damn I was happy with that car... then I drove it here to San Diego where I spent the next couple years fixing up everything else... lots of everything else.
      Finally the Michigan rust came back, after I was out for a couple of years... then I sold it, and after pouring in 25 k total, was only able to sell it for 6k... before the internet was as powered up as it is now.
      Then I took out a loan, and bought my 69 R/T, and poured about 8 k into it to make it reliable, dependable, and so far, 18 years later, it still is hanging in there waiting for me to finish fixing up stuff. Still no rust!
      Where do you live now? If it's in So Cal, let me know. I'd like to buy you a cold one, and shoot the shit about cars

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