A Change of Jobs and Windage Knobs

Late in 1977, my application was approved to cross-train into aircraft maintenance, which is what I wanted to do when I first came in. I'd be going to Shepard AFB, Texas for tech school.

Off duty, I'd been getting in some "range-time" to do some long range rifle work, as I was gradually building a collection. Plenty of handgun practice too. One of the neat things about living in Elmore Country, is the vast range of NOTHING out there. Plenty of places to shoot, with good solid dirt-mound natural bullet-stops.

I'd bought an old M-1 Garand from the Korean War era. I'd fired my first M-1 at Camp Pendleton back in 1966, and now in 1977, I had one of my own. Although I'd been shooting the "modern stuff" since I'd gotten out of the Marines, the old Garand was like a comfortable old sweater. Still is. The first time out with it was just like getting on a bicycle again. Some things you never forget, and suddenly, it's "yesterday" again!

Crank a couple off, check the target, adjust the windage and elevation knobs, fire a couple more, "fine-tweaking" as you go along, and then when it's "just right"..............ya load up a few clips, toss a few Coke cans way out there, and just have yourself a real "re-union!"

I already had a couple of hunting rifles, but the last military rifle I'd fired was the M-16 on base, during annual "qualification".

If you read my Vietnam blogs, you know my utter disgust with that little 22-caliber, jamming "Mattell toy." But that first Saturday with that old Garand, out in the sticks"-----it felt MARVELOUS to have a REAL COMBAT RIFLE in my hands again!

For you "Air Force Only" types out there, you know how the M-16 (WHEN it works) gives you that gentle push, as its high-speed 55-grain 22 caliber bullet goes "plink-plink" out there.

The old Garand is a very different animal. Chambered for the old tried & true 30.06, it leaves no doubt in your mind about ANYTHING when you touch each one off! The 30.06 cartridge shoots 30-caliber bullets that range fron 110 to 220 grains, and several weights in-between. Even with the heavy-duty recoil spring, that 9 & a half pound rifle will rock you back, take OUT whatever you hit, and pound that dirt-mound backstop with AUTHORITY!.....and it doesn't jam!

The M-1 is the REAL DEAL, Bucko! I LOVE MINE! So did the Marines and soldiers of World War II.

I got into re-loading (although I don't have the time for it anymore), and worked out a lot of really accurate loads for both my rifles and handguns.

I was also able to pursue my old car hobby on this 2nd tour of the "patch". I restored a very nice black & gold '58 Ford Fairlane 500, and bought my Dad's old '67 Mercury from him, after he'd bought a newer one.

I took a bus down to Medford to bring it back, and for a little while, I didn't think I was gonna MAKE it back. Dad had bought it when it was almost new (it had been a "Dealer Demo" (very low mileage). He hadn't owned it very long when he'd had a heart attack and couldn't drive very much for the longest time. The car was 10 years old when I bought it from him in '77, and just barely had 31,000 miles on it!

When I got to Medford, I did an oil change on it, new points & plugs, had it greased, etc, and started the 551 miles back to Mountain Home. "Wow" I thought......10 years and only 31,000 on it! It's still almost like a new car!

Well.........that "new car" hadn't seen a long stretch of highway in YEARS. MOST of that 31,000 had been down to the store, or across town and back. It had a big "390" in it, same as my old Torino, and I was expecting a nice smooth ride home, but about a hundred miles out, it started running a little "funky." Even with a fresh tune-up, it just didn't seem to have all the power it SHOULD have had.

THEN, as I headed up around Crater Lake, I started hearing a "tappet clatter" and it began to cut out. I'd brought a toolbox with me, so I wasn't too concerned, but the closer I got to the summit, the worse it ran. I knew if I could just make the top, I could almost COAST all the way down the other side to the 97 Junction where there was a Shell station at the time.

With the top of the grade in sight, I eased the pedal down to the floor to try to gain as much momentum as I could, and all of a sudden, it sounded almost like a machinegun under the hood.....the tappets were going CRAZY and smoke----SOLID BLACK SMOKE was rolling out of the back, so thick I couldn't see out of the rear window!

"Well, if it blows, it blows", I thought.......but as I started back down the other side, the noise under the hood quieted down, the black smoke cleared away, and the speedometer shot up to around 75-80. I was CRUISIN' man!

It felt like a new car, when I pulled into Bend for gas and a sandwich. I carefully looked at everything under the hood while the gas attendant was filling it up. Everything looked fine. I got back in it and headed east across "Oregon 20", and by the time I rolled through the main gate of the base, you could barely hear it run!

Carbon. The years of stop 'n' go had really plugged it up! Donna today, has a 67 Mercury Cougar with a "390" that she uses for a "daily driver" to Wal-Mart & back, but still takes it down the freeway every now and then just to keep it "cleaned out."

And I've GOT to tell THIS one before closing off this post.......

I had re-married not too long after I'd gotten back in the states, and somewhere in late 77 to early 78, I bought this little '65 Ford Falcon off the old "Lemon Lot" on base for $200.00. Paint was faded, interior a bit shabby, but it ran really good. It had a "289" V-8 with a 4-speed on the floor. I liked it real well. My WIFE did NOT.

I drove it to the coast TWICE, to Boise at least rwice a month and up to Featherville whenever the weather was nice. My wife couldn't drive it to the BX, without it REFUSING to restart for her. She'd have it loaded with groceries, call me at work, I'd run down there, hop in it and it would fire right up!........and she'd be MAD!

It stranded her 2 or 3 more times on base, and once in town. I went through the ignition system thoroughly. Everything was clean and perfect, I changed things that didn't even LOOK suspicious! Plugs, points, condenser, coil, battery, solenoid, starter, etc---------I could STILL drive that car 1200 miles on a weekend without so much as a "burp" out of it..............she couldn't go to the comissary without it stranding her!

Finally, she INSISTED that the car had to be "possessed" and for me to get RID of it! I reluctantly did, and sold it to Ron Trompke, a guy I'd worked with at one time.

About a month later, he called me up to ask if I'd ever had any problems with that Falcon. No, I hadn't. Well......neither had HE, throughout several round-trips to Twin Falls and Pocotello..........

BUT......the car had stranded HIS wife TWICE now on base and once in town!

"Well Ron......you ain't gonna believe this, but---------and I told him the story. Like ME, Ron ALSO really liked that car, but ALSO like ME, HIS wife made HIM get rid of it too, and he sold it to some guy in Boise.

I never saw that little red Falcon again, but every great now and then, I wonder whose wife it's stranding NOW!

Shame too, because that little thing would really GO! A Falcon is lighter than a Mustang, and with that same "289" in it, they will really "boogie" down the road!

Music was going well out at Scrubby's and other places, but that would all have to get put on hold when I went to Shepard for "Airplane School."