He’s surly and grumpy, feeling like he’s being left out and I cannot argue with him as I sit in this office looking outside at the beautiful day, the beautiful sky and he keeps reminding me…
Me and Dale would start out early in the morning and take our bikes and start riding the big circle than ran from our house and over the intercoastal bridge to A1A, the road that snakes its way along the Atlantic Ocean in Pompano Beach.
We were always looking for money, which is odd because we weren’t poor by any means but we loved to find money and did so quite often in places where people frequent and deal with money: paper machines, phone booths (this was the 70ies), soda machines…but the best place to look and the source of many a comic book spree was the jetties that line the sea walls. Besides being excellent sources of flotsam and jetsam, they were wonderful magnets for lost cash-
One time in particular after a pretty major hurricane all sorts of random stuff began accumulating in a small jetty by the Buccaneer hotel. I still can’t believe I waded through the gunk and trash and who-knows-what to pick the beautiful green bills from the seaweed. In all we found about 150 dollars and split it like we always did, down the middle.
I miss Dale and I miss that life as I sit here wallowing in office boredom and a job that my mind left behind right about the time I started maturing past my immature life.
Plus I had the coolest motor-cross type bike ever. My brother built it then abandoned it in favor of driving cars.