April 12, 2010
P’cola Beach

She, Sis and I are off to some beach - mercy! It all started in Pensacola in 1968; mean nasty tough drill instructors who reminded us “fly boys” that the Navy would “never give us the keys to that fantum jet” screaming overhead. Forty two years later, I got to touch the old retired museum jets again, while imagining I could still get that thing aboard. Yea, right. Oh hey, over there - that’s the place where the Marine major tried to jump the open drawbridge (unsuccessfully) on his motorcycle. And once the DI told us his balls were so big he needed a wheelbarrow to carry them. Later on, we bought him a red wheelbarrow.

Gentleman officer?
Naa…, just a kid who liked speed
Here’s the keys boy