| Author | Message | ||
     Crusty |
Work and Motorcycles I worked as a Sandhog for almost 20 years, off and on. I had gotten a job as a Miner in 1978 at the Seabrook Power Plant and discovered that I had an aptitude for the work. It was a tough job; working conditions were miserable and there was a constant threat of injury, but I loved it. However, the nature of the work was such that I had to be a Nomad and travel to the next big job, or find a way to get by when the job was done until the next Tunnel job started up. The on again – off again nature of the work appealed to my temperament. In the early ‘90s, the Big Dig was going strong in the Boston area. There were more Tunnel jobs than I could keep track of. Not only was the Expressway being moved underground, but the Boston Harbor Clean up was going full bore with its big tunnels. After working on the Inter –Island Tunnel for a couple of years, I was unemployed for a stretch. In July of ’94, the Business Manager of my Union Local sent me to a small job in Quincy, MA. It was a small Flood Control Tunnel that ran under the downtown area of Quincy. It was supposed to be a three day job to replace a guy who had hurt himself, but the job wound up lasting two years. It was a Night Shift job (I almost always wound up on Night Shifts), and my hours were from 5:30 PM – 3:30 AM. I would frequently go by my friend’s Bike Shop for an hour or so in the afternoon before I would head off to work. When February of ’95 rolled around, everybody was talking about Daytona; who was going with who, where they were staying, etc. Jimmy and Guido would hit the swap meets and do the Vintage stuff, some guys were going to just ride in the sunshine, some were just going to hit the bars and hang out on Main street. I was working, so I wasn’t going; instead, I was going to open the shop for a couple of hours each afternoon before I went to work. The job had progressed to three shifts by that time, and my hours were 4:00 to Midnight. I’d get up and go to the shop for a couple of hours then drive down to Quincy for work. I wanted to go to Daytona, but I had to be at work. When everybody came back, I got to hear all the stories and I really wished that I’d gone. The following year, I was still working on the same job, and everybody was once again talking about going to Daytona. Jimmy was taking a bunch of Vintage parts down to sell, and would buy what he thought was a good deal, others were just looking forward to partying in the nice weather. We had a friend who lived in Port Orange, and all were welcome to stay at his house. It was killing me that I had to work, and every afternoon when I went over to the shop, it was getting worse. Finally, a couple of days before Bike Week started, I snapped. I decided to ride down. I was in the shop at the time, and Jimmy saw it. He looked at me and said, “You just quit your job, didn’t you?” And I replied, “Yup. I’m going!” I went home and called the Business Manager, and told a lie about my Father being hospitalized, and I had to go down to see him. Scott told me that the job was mine, and it would be waiting when I got back; he’d send somebody out to cover it. The next morning, I got on my bike and set out going South. I did stop and visit with my folks in North Carolina for a couple of days, then went down to Florida and I was totally immersed in motorcycles for the next week. I did as much as I could. I had people who’d been going for years to give me advice. I found a great breakfast place for reasonable money, I saw lots of Vintage bikes and parts, I got to see a Britten up close, I saw ridiculously expensive Bourget Customs, I went to an Open House at Crane Cams and got to see how cams were made, and they even fed me free BBQ, I saw women wrestling in a plastic pool that was filled with raw eggs, I watched the bikes at the horsepower shootout at AMI, I went to the Motorcycle & Accessory Show, I took Demo Rides on every bike that I had any interest in (and fell in love with a Buell S2-T), I saw the Short Track National and I even went to a Motorcycle Demolition Derby. The only thing I didn’t get to see was the Daytona 200. It got rained out for the only time ever. I had so much fun that I can’t even begin to describe it. I had gotten away from the miserable winter and I was totally engulfed in every aspect of motorcycling. It was magic and it was just what I needed. If I had lost the job, I still think it would have been worth it. Daytona’s coming up in a few weeks, and I haven’t been there since ’06. Hmmm. | ||
| Ducbsa |
Were you careful not to get too good of a tan? | ||
| Crusty |
Were you careful not to get too good of a tan? No; I wasn't. In fact, I spent a good bit of time watching practice for the Short Track out in the sun intentionally. When I got back, everybody at work figured out where I'd been real quick. I never could lie worth a damn. My boss gave me the shittiest job in the tunnel, then gave me grief for not getting it done fast enough as a punishment. After that, I just developed the attitude that I was going, I wasn't going to lie about it, and if you don't like it then you can can me. It's amazing how much smoother things go when you're up front and honest. |
