- Joined
- Oct 16, 2008
- Messages
- 3,617
- Reaction score
- 4,413
- Location
- Bryan, TX
- First Name
- Dennie
- Last Name
- Spears
Some things that were said to me, passed on to me or overheard by me that made me proud, sad, happy or …….. Some taking place many years ago, some more recent.
A few months before my dad died, I was passing through the dining room where he was sitting, “Come here boy and sit on my lap.” I was nearly 40.
At a restaurant after a rather large group of mostly strangers had been on a rather brisk ride through the twisties. I had been riding a DRZ 400 a couple of bikes behind the leader. I was about 60 and had a full head of extremely grey hair. A friend said, while pointing across the room, “That guy wanted to know who the old guy on the dirt bike was.”
My favorite 1 word and 2 word quotes: 45 years ago, “yes,” and 44 years ago, “I do.” My wife.
At my very healthy mom’s 80th birthday party. “Mom, do you want to live to be 100?”
Mom, after a short pause, “I want to wait until I’m 99 to decide.”
I raced mountain bikes for several years and hated nearly every minute of it. In order to allow all 800+ racers to ride in a day, different age and skill classes were started every few minutes and there would generally be many races going on at the same time. In my first year as a beginner, I won a race at Huntsville state park. After washing my face, I walked back down the course where two of my buddies were watching the beginners struggle up the hill to the finish line. I asked who came in second in my race and one of my friends said, “Nobody, yet.” I won that 10 mile race by nearly 8 minutes.
At another mountain bike race in Warda, Tx. My group started 5 minutes behind a group of much younger riders. I was in my 50s. About ¾ of the way through the race, I was leading my race and caught one of the younger riders. I had already passed several other racers in his class. In mountain bike racing, it’s considered good manners to ask permission to pass and the slower rider is supposed to allow a clean pass regardless of whether or not you are in his class. The rider asked my class and I told him whatever the name was for my 50+ year old class. He told me to pass left, and when I got beside him, he said, “Way to go Old Dude.” Emphasis on “Old.”
I worked at a welding supply store. In order to get a new car, the owner’s 16 year old grandson, Blake, was required to work the sales counter for the school summer break and he hated every minute of it. He hated it almost as much as I hated bicycle racing. One day, the store was empty of customers, the owner was off playing golf, I was in charge of the sales force and Blake was leaning on the counter and said, “I hate this XXXxx@@* place.”
I was tired of his constant complaining and I said, “Well why don’t you just leave?” Without saying another word, he walked out the door. The next morning I was called into the owner’s office and asked to explain what had happened. After telling him what had transpired the previous day, he said, “I’d rather you didn’t give my grandson any more career advice.”
I took a metal shop class in high school. It was 4 hours long and taught by a wonderful teacher named Mr. Tolson. There was usually an hour of classroom and then 3 hours of welding, machine shop or other metal work. One of our classmates was very disruptive, constantly making snide remarks, playing pranks on people and generally being a nuisance. I sat next to him, not by choice, but because we were assigned seats. One day Mr. Tolson asked him a question and in some way, he worked a derogatory remark about my girlfriend into his answer. Mr. Tolson drug me off of him after I had knocked him to the floor and pounded his face with several punches. I was suspended for 3 days, but on the way to the principal’s office, Mr. Tolson leaned over close to me and whispered, “Thanks Dennie.”
I had been in the Marine Corps for slightly over 2 years when Major Leach, my XO said, “Corporal Spears, It looks like you are up for meritorious promotion to Sergeant”
A few months before my dad died, I was passing through the dining room where he was sitting, “Come here boy and sit on my lap.” I was nearly 40.
At a restaurant after a rather large group of mostly strangers had been on a rather brisk ride through the twisties. I had been riding a DRZ 400 a couple of bikes behind the leader. I was about 60 and had a full head of extremely grey hair. A friend said, while pointing across the room, “That guy wanted to know who the old guy on the dirt bike was.”
My favorite 1 word and 2 word quotes: 45 years ago, “yes,” and 44 years ago, “I do.” My wife.
At my very healthy mom’s 80th birthday party. “Mom, do you want to live to be 100?”
Mom, after a short pause, “I want to wait until I’m 99 to decide.”
I raced mountain bikes for several years and hated nearly every minute of it. In order to allow all 800+ racers to ride in a day, different age and skill classes were started every few minutes and there would generally be many races going on at the same time. In my first year as a beginner, I won a race at Huntsville state park. After washing my face, I walked back down the course where two of my buddies were watching the beginners struggle up the hill to the finish line. I asked who came in second in my race and one of my friends said, “Nobody, yet.” I won that 10 mile race by nearly 8 minutes.
At another mountain bike race in Warda, Tx. My group started 5 minutes behind a group of much younger riders. I was in my 50s. About ¾ of the way through the race, I was leading my race and caught one of the younger riders. I had already passed several other racers in his class. In mountain bike racing, it’s considered good manners to ask permission to pass and the slower rider is supposed to allow a clean pass regardless of whether or not you are in his class. The rider asked my class and I told him whatever the name was for my 50+ year old class. He told me to pass left, and when I got beside him, he said, “Way to go Old Dude.” Emphasis on “Old.”
I worked at a welding supply store. In order to get a new car, the owner’s 16 year old grandson, Blake, was required to work the sales counter for the school summer break and he hated every minute of it. He hated it almost as much as I hated bicycle racing. One day, the store was empty of customers, the owner was off playing golf, I was in charge of the sales force and Blake was leaning on the counter and said, “I hate this XXXxx@@* place.”
I was tired of his constant complaining and I said, “Well why don’t you just leave?” Without saying another word, he walked out the door. The next morning I was called into the owner’s office and asked to explain what had happened. After telling him what had transpired the previous day, he said, “I’d rather you didn’t give my grandson any more career advice.”
I took a metal shop class in high school. It was 4 hours long and taught by a wonderful teacher named Mr. Tolson. There was usually an hour of classroom and then 3 hours of welding, machine shop or other metal work. One of our classmates was very disruptive, constantly making snide remarks, playing pranks on people and generally being a nuisance. I sat next to him, not by choice, but because we were assigned seats. One day Mr. Tolson asked him a question and in some way, he worked a derogatory remark about my girlfriend into his answer. Mr. Tolson drug me off of him after I had knocked him to the floor and pounded his face with several punches. I was suspended for 3 days, but on the way to the principal’s office, Mr. Tolson leaned over close to me and whispered, “Thanks Dennie.”
I had been in the Marine Corps for slightly over 2 years when Major Leach, my XO said, “Corporal Spears, It looks like you are up for meritorious promotion to Sergeant”
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