Still got him.
[and never shall we part]
Sorry about the Guzzi incident. That's a damn shame.
I have a horror story involving a Willy's jeep my dad had when I was very young, maybe 6 or 7.
It was bought from the Letterkenny Depot up in Chambersburg PA and had no rear seats. If there wasn't an apple crate in the back, you sat on the bare metal floor.
[military surplus]
Every year at the start of hunting season, he'd take us up to an old cabin at the top of Fairview mountain and the guys would have a ritual poker party/pig out night.
The "road" was on the actual spine of the mountain and nearly non-existent and there was one hill that was at least a 45 degree angle.
One of those party nights, there'd been an ice storm the day before.
The way there was literally a solid sheet of ice-coated rocks.
But...the forces of hell of itself would not stop the menfolk from having their party so we went up any way.
I can close my eyes and still hear the screaming gears and feel the wild swaying of the Jeep, careening madly towards the sides of the "road" [which was bordered by steep, rocky plunges into the abyss] as he made wild-eyed assault after assault on that hill.
[he was Korean war munitions truck driver...probably felt like "home" to him]
We did make it.
Nobody else could, though, so he dropped me off on the pitch-black, deserted mountain top and kept going back for Jeep-loads of hunters and doing it over and over again until everybody was in.
It was freaking surrealistic.
[and I'm sure having a childhood *filled* with "exciting" things like that hasn't affected me at all]
