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Well, now that Petrolati has bored you with his life story (soon to be a
minor motion picture) I suppose I can make my contribution.
Born 1955 in Winton, Minnesota-15 miles from the Canadian border. At age
year-and-a-half my parents moved to the Bahamas and, fortunately, took me,
my brother and my sister with them. Dad was involved in a pulpwood cutting
operation that logged the pines off of Grand Bahama, Abaco and Andros from
'57 through '70. The logs were cut to 8' lengths and shipped by barge to a
paper mill in Jacksonville, FL. Therefore, the settlements on the three
islands were placed to maximize access for ocean-going tugs and barges;
and not for access to local towns. Which is to say, we were in the middle
of a mostly uninhabited tropical paradise long before the drug dealers took
over the Caribbean. The company needed a place for office workers, a
general store, single men housing, clinic, school, ice cream parlor, beauty
parlor, movie theater, laundry, and cafeteria. So, being that this was an
amphibious operation, they bought a mothballed, 364' steamship from the
Hudson River Day Line called the Robert Fulton, removed the steam engines,
towed it to the Bahamas, and made it into a community center. The Fulton
was originally used for tourists to take day trips from New York City up
the Hudson River from 1914 to the early '40s. Then she was mothballed and
stuck in a ship yard in New Jersey until the late '50s when she made her
way to the Bahamas. By 1968 her steel hull, which was not designed to
handle salt water, was so much Swiss cheese that she was destroyed. I went
to grade school on the Fulton and she was the center of the community. I
mourn her loss thirty years later.
Dad bought a clapped out AH Bugeye Sprite in the early '60s and
rebuilt the entire car. Which, as I remember, involved not much more than
a paint job and engine rebuild. They were pretty simple machines, even by
LBC standards. I suppose that got me started on the path to LBC addiction,
but I was too young to do much more than steal his tools to work on my
bicycle and piss him off. By 1970 we had moved back to the States
(Jacksonville) where Dad bought a '60 TR3A. By now I was old enough to
help out and this really cemented my LBC need.
In 1972 we moved to Tomahawk, Wisconsin (the pulpwood company owned
mills in both Jacksonville and Tomahawk) and I had my driver's license. My
brother had a friend who rolled his 1964 Spitfire a week before he entered
the Army. So for the $16 he owed the tow truck guy, I had my first car.
OK, so it had a smashed front valence, crunched windshield, and no
brakes-but it ran and it was mine. I put all of a year's worth of labor
and $300 into it, drove the living hell out of it, then sold it for $500 to
buy a '61 TR3A in equally bad condition. By this time I'm in college
(UW-Stevens Point) and have no time for a car that ran one day and needed
work the next so I got rid of it. Majored in biology. Dated a wonderful
woman named Nancy, things didn't work out, so we split up in 1978.
Went to grad school at Duke in NC, got a PhD in plant physiology in
1986. Did a postdoc in Urbana, Illinois where I got to meet the famous
Greg Petrolati and ride in his green TR4 (still don't know if that rollbar
REALLY works). Married in '86--divorced in '91, no kids. Nancy (from
1978, see above) also got divorced same year, we got back together, married
in 1993 and we have never been happier in our entire lives. Some things
are meant to be. Tried for many years, and in many ways, to have kids-to
no avail. Went through so many tests and procedures that every time I see
a specimen cup I get an erection (you guys who have been there know what I
mean). Paid for a fertility doctor's new BMW. Some things are not meant
to be.
Am now a (semi-) respectable professor of biology at UW-Oshkosh
with tenure. Hard to believe. Maturity is way overrated.
Parents bought me a '61 TR3A for graduation from Duke in '86. I
worked on it like mad for three years then parked it for ten. Finally
realized I was never going to finish the body work so I dug it out last
year and found a local shop to put a paint job on it. They did a fantastic
job (pale yellow) and I will rebuild the engine over the winter and put it
on the road next spring.
Spend "free time" restoring 1890 Queen Anne home in Appleton, WI
and participating in local Hash House Harriers runs (a self-proclaimed
drinking club with a running problem-any other Hashers on the list?).
--============_-1277002446==_ma============
<fontfamily><param>Times</param>Well, now that Petrolati has bored you
with his life story (soon to be a minor motion picture) I suppose I can
make my contribution.
Born 1955 in Winton, Minnesota-15 miles from the Canadian border. At
age year-and-a-half my parents moved to the Bahamas and, fortunately,
took me, my brother and my sister with them. Dad was involved in a
pulpwood cutting operation that logged the pines off of Grand Bahama,
Abaco and Andros from '57 through '70. The logs were cut to 8' lengths
and shipped by barge to a paper mill in Jacksonville, FL. Therefore,
the settlements on the three islands were placed to maximize access for
ocean-going tugs and barges; and not for access to local towns. Which
is to say, we were in the middle of a mostly uninhabited tropical
paradise long before the drug dealers took over the Caribbean. The
company needed a place for office workers, a general store, single men
housing, clinic, school, ice cream parlor, beauty parlor, movie
theater, laundry, and cafeteria. So, being that this was an amphibious
operation, they bought a mothballed, 364' steamship from the Hudson
River Day Line called the Robert Fulton, removed the steam engines,
towed it to the Bahamas, and made it into a community center. The
Fulton was originally used for tourists to take day trips from New York
City up the Hudson River from 1914 to the early '40s. Then she was
mothballed and stuck in a ship yard in New Jersey until the late '50s
when she made her way to the Bahamas. By 1968 her steel hull, which
was not designed to handle salt water, was so much Swiss cheese that
she was destroyed. I went to grade school on the Fulton and she was
the center of the community. I mourn her loss thirty years later.
Dad bought a clapped out AH Bugeye Sprite in the early '60s and
rebuilt the entire car. Which, as I remember, involved not much more
than a paint job and engine rebuild. They were pretty simple machines,
even by LBC standards. I suppose that got me started on the path to
LBC addiction, but I was too young to do much more than steal his tools
to work on my bicycle and piss him off. By 1970 we had moved back to
the States (Jacksonville) where Dad bought a '60 TR3A. By now I was
old enough to help out and this really cemented my LBC need.
In 1972 we moved to Tomahawk, Wisconsin (the pulpwood company owned
mills in both Jacksonville and Tomahawk) and I had my driver's license.
My brother had a friend who rolled his 1964 Spitfire a week before he
entered the Army. So for the $16 he owed the tow truck guy, I had my
first car. OK, so it had a smashed front valence, crunched windshield,
and no brakes-but it ran and it was mine. I put all of a year's worth
of labor and $300 into it, drove the living hell out of it, then sold
it for $500 to buy a '61 TR3A in equally bad condition. By this time
I'm in college (UW-Stevens Point) and have no time for a car that ran
one day and needed work the next so I got rid of it. Majored in
biology. Dated a wonderful woman named Nancy, things didn't work out,
so we split up in 1978.
Went to grad school at Duke in NC, got a PhD in plant physiology in
1986. Did a postdoc in Urbana, Illinois where I got to meet the famous
Greg Petrolati and ride in his green TR4 (still don't know if that
rollbar REALLY works). Married in '86--divorced in '91, no kids.
Nancy (from 1978, see above) also got divorced same year, we got back
together, married in 1993 and we have never been happier in our entire
lives. Some things are meant to be. Tried for many years, and in many
ways, to have kids-to no avail. Went through so many tests and
procedures that every time I see a specimen cup I get an erection (you
guys who have been there know what I mean). Paid for a fertility
doctor's new BMW. Some things are not meant to be.
Am now a (semi-) respectable professor of biology at UW-Oshkosh with
tenure. Hard to believe. Maturity is way overrated.
Parents bought me a '61 TR3A for graduation from Duke in '86. I
worked on it like mad for three years then parked it for ten. Finally
realized I was never going to finish the body work so I dug it out last
year and found a local shop to put a paint job on it. They did a
fantastic job (pale yellow) and I will rebuild the engine over the
winter and put it on the road next spring.
Spend "free time" restoring 1890 Queen Anne home in Appleton, WI and
participating in local Hash House Harriers runs (a self-proclaimed
drinking club with a running problem-any other Hashers on the
list?).</fontfamily>
--============_-1277002446==_ma============--
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