Hero's

[foodfisher]

Once upon a time,early 70's, I was a young rambunctious lad, 20 something, I took my '61 Ford pickup, three on the tree, over the mountains to "apple blossom festival" for a good time. The mountains killed my second gear and I limped into Wenatchee. Didn't know what to do or how to get back home. Don't know to paragraph so bear with me. Roaming around, drinking and smoking, I ran into a native indian guy from my home town, named Cooney. I knew him by reputation only. FBI, effin big indian. Somehow in the partying he ended up dropping my transmission, pulling it apart and replacing the gear and reinstalling the tranny back into my truck. All this after chasing down the part. As payment he asked for one of my beers. That my friends is one of my heros. Another is Frank Acampora, layed back, never gets testy, aside from snake oil, and willing to help the most ignorant when it comes to force engines. It took a while to gather the courage to state this, and a bud or two, but here it is and that's the truth.