First real job other than "chores" was chopping cotton. 11 years old, a gooseneck hoe and miles of rows of cotton that had weeds to be annihilated. Paid 10 cents an hour in 1963. I was on top of the world, had my own money to blow on ammo!! Graduated to driving tractors plowing wheat stubble and doubled my hourly pay! Age 12, started hauling wheat to the elevators from the fields. Drove a 1954 White tractor with a 35' grain trailer. They put blocks on the pedals so I could sit high enough to see through the steering wheel, paid the same as plowing but a lot more fun.
Broke horses, did ranch work until the late 60's when dad sold the ranch. Moved to the big city. New school, new friends, lot of fights. Rode bulls and broncs at local rodeos, worked at a gunshop during the evenings three nights a week and Saturdays. Worked at a wrecking yard during the week cutting up junk cars (classic cars by today's standards). Built a hot rod '57, 2dr hard top Bel Aire. Raced it, chased girls, out ran cops, and was a general ne'er do well. Nice thing about the wrecking yard was I could limp in there Sunday morning and usually find enough parts to fix what I'd broken on blown of Friday or Saturday night.
Graduated high school went to work welding trailer house frames. Money was OK, but job sucked. Quit that, joined the Navy and saw the world, part of it called Viet Nam anyway. They closed that fiasco not too long before I was due to either ship over or get released from active duty. Figured out real quick that the peacetime navy was no place for a man whose job involved explosives. Got released, went home, drank a lot, went to college, drank a lot more, got kicked out of college a few times. Started driving trucks over the road.
Got a letter from an old buddy one day. He had a deal that sounded too good. We met up and met another gent that spelled the deal out. Got a few tips from an uncle who'd been a wardog in several different theaters. My pard and I went South for almost a year. Met some very interesting and nefarious types. Several were intent on depriving us of our ability to process oxygen. My pard and I got out that mess intact and decided that we weren't going to push our luck and take any more contracts of that nature.
Drove trucks pretty much for the next 25 years hauling everything you can think of to put on a trailer.Owned and operated my own rig for 8 years. Sold that and went to work hauling oversize/over weight stuff. Started a small aircraft repair business working part time when I wasn't off on trip to wherever with a rolling road block, with a buddy working on tube and rag junk. Got my pilot's license and had a lot of fun being stupid in hot rod aerobatic planes. Built a few hot rod big twin bikes during that time and tried unsuccessfully to kill myself that way a few times too. Enjoyed that, made good money. However, the transgressions of my youth started catching up with me and it got to where it hurt too bad to keep on keeping on.
Met a lady, fell in love, got married for the first time at 51. I wasn't ready to "settle down" before that. Stealing milk through the fence was easier than owning a milk cow in my mind. I will say that the last 12 years since I got married have been the best of my life.BIG changes in my life but they are for the best. Being married to me ain't easiest thing for lady but I'm glad this one thinks so.
Cleaned chimneys for a while. That was fun but too seasonal. Decided to take a break and liquidate my gun collection. Lived high on the hog for two years buying and selling guns and related junk at gunshows. Finally sold all I was going to.
Went to work for the highway dept as a road hand/equipment operator. Went from that to maintenance contract inspection. Nowadays, I ride around in a pick up and check on the work that low bid contractors do for the highway dept. It's not a job, IT'S A POSITION! When the weather turns the roads to ice, I get paid to drive in it and sand or run a blade to plow snow/ice too. At this stage in my life, I'd rather sit home with a fire burning and drink in my hand than mess with that stuff.
If I can make it four more years where I'm at without pulling some idiot supervisor type's lip over his head. I'll retire.
It's been a wild ride, and yes, I'd do it again.