After an unfortunate incident with one of the work trucks while I was driving through a narrow opening on an icy parking lot, I was asked to leave my electricianís helper
job. It was a bit scary not having something else lined up, but I was fortunate enough to find my next job quite quickly, working at a job that was somewhat electronics
related, I fixed and installed arcade video games.
This job paid a little better, so with the proceeds of the previous bike, and with an utter disregard for my financial stability, I was able to get a relatively new, low-hours,
250. This bike was in excellent shape and was very easy to ride, especially compared to the 500. The motor was strong and predictable and the bike handled great. I got this
towards the end of the season and didn't end up racing it much, but I did ride it quite a bit. As good as I felt when I was out riding, my hours
at work were becoming almost intolerable.
This is not actually my bike, mine was stock except for grips, but it was this clean
Most of my video game customers were Navy ships. They had them in the game rooms of carriers and some of the other larger ships. We had one or two appliance dollies, and would
be dragging the video games up and down ladders, and through watertight doors.
We'd load the ships up with working games before they went out to sea. They were on their own to fix them once they left. On long deployments, they'd come back in pretty rough
shape. We would then take them all off, fix or scrap them, and install another batch of games on some other ship. A few ships kept them on all the time, but that was only about
2 or 3 games, compared to 10 to 15 on a carrier.
But that wasn't the bad part. I enjoyed most of the installs. It got me out of the shop, which was automatically an improvement. This business was quite cyclical and the cycle hit
a low ebb. The shop slowly became overrun with video games. My overtime disappeared. The only other full time employee in the shop, my boss, was getting very strange. I was
beginning to wonder if the thin veil of sanity he was still wearing was about to slip off his face, slip like a decaying Halloween mask. But I digress.
Unfortunately, the fragile payment structure that was keeping me riding crumbled when I had major car problems. Much as I hated to do it, I sold my bike and my moto trailer to
pay for repairs to my car. I then sold the car to buy a pick-up. The person who bought the bike, who I will refer to rather plainly as Dwight Frazier, was just starting out
racing. Years later, when I'd check the results in Virginia local races, I saw that he had worked his way up to A class, and did quite well in the vet classes. After a
while, it ended up being the only name I would recognize, other than people's kids. But I jump ahead in time. Again.
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Revised September 2017