Join Date: Aug 2003
Location: Colorado Springs, Colorado,
My odd jobs
The summer before my senior year of high school in '73, I got a job doing drywall finish work. Things got slow and I was told I could stock sheetrock for $2.50 an hour. Cool, I thought because I needed money to fund the fun I had planned for my last year in school.
I spent all of 2 1/2 days carrying 4x10x1/2" doubles of sheetrock into a three story apartment complex. By the third day it felt as though my knuckles were dragging on the ground. There was one little guy in the crew who could carry TWO of these doubles at a time. I think he was getting paid at a piece work rate and since he was living out of a van with his dog I guess he really needed the money. I did too but not that bad.
Odd job number 2. Fast forward to 1978 after I'd gotten married and bought my first home and came to the sudden realization that it takes a lot of money to outfit a house. A family friend suggested I take a part time job at the funeral home where she worked as a book keeper. The job involved spending every Friday and Saturday nights taking death calls from the Coroner's office then dispatching the mortician on call.
Every once in a while I'd go down to the basement and watch them do their thing. I saw lots of stuff I wish I hadn't and also heard some of the best jokes ever. Morticians are an odd lot and I suspect some of them could be pretty good stand up comedians.
One night I took a call for a dry floater only to have the mortician call me for help. I drove to the house and was hit by a smell as I entered the house. Anyone who's ever smelled a rotting human corpse knows what I'm talking about. If I thought the smell was bad the sight of the body was far worse. It was an old man who died of a sudden heart attack and came to rest on the floor with his head directly over a furnace vent. I'll leave the description at that.
While working there I managed to buy a new '79 Yamaha XS750 Special triple and began adding goodies. I'd ride it to the funeral home on the weekends and after everyone left I'd wheel it into the room where I took calls and slept. I got lots of work done on it, cleaned it, did oil changes, etc., and then I'd wheel it to back entry door where it would be safe inside. The morticians, witty bastards that they are, would leave their business cards tucked between my bike's seat and tank so they could earn a commission if, you know, something happened to me.
'02 RT nacht black
'05 Ducati ST3 black
'06 K12S bumble bee