In ’54 I got ready to get my discharge. When I drove out there I drove a Chevrolet; I forget the year.

When I got out there I sold it and sent all the money home but $500.

I wrote my dad a letter and said, “Boy, I bought a sharp Model A Ford out here, Dad!”

He never let me have a motorcycle and I bought a big ol’ Harley Davidson with what they called a suicide clutch at that time.

He wrote a letter back to me and he said, “How dumb do you think I am? What kind of motorcycle did you buy?” (Laughter) I thought he’d go fly right out there, but he didn’t.

But anyway, come time to get my discharge the company commander says, “How are you going home?”

“I’m going to ride that bike!”

He said, “No you’re not! I’m the one that signs on a dotted line when you get out of here.”

He said, “I ain’t signing it until you sell it, cause knowing you you’ll never get there.”

He was afraid I’d kill myself, so I had to sell it.

I rode a Greyhound Bus home and it was one of those that stops every cow path it comes to, but that’s what I wanted. I wasn’t in no hurry. I met a lot of people. I kind of enjoyed it.

I run into a guy that was heading for Chicago. He was getting out of the service and he tried to tell me that he had a job there in Chicago as a cook, you know.

He tried to get me to stop off in Chicago which I didn’t.

My job was waiting on me in Cooper, but they wanted me to re-up and come back in, but my wife-to-be, her parents and everybody didn’t understand military life. I loved to spit and shine. I was home one week and went back to Cooper.