DISCLAIMER - This will be graphic, stupidly real, and my life's crowning achievement, and the best therapy since frontal lobe exploration.

Jan: A Dog

Circa March 1969. 224 Oneida Court (pronounced O ni da not O need a). My street had fifteen houses (1973 it grew to seventeen). Counted among these seventeen houses were twentythree young people with the greatest age difference being about seven years. What a wild ass neighbor hood. Ballgames that lasted until dark and then a game of "kick the can". The stories are too numerous, the memories too vivid, I remember everything.

The tale of "Jan: A Dog" begins here.

Bicycles were the most important accessory in a child's life in those days. High Hanger handle bars and the obligitory banana seat. (Damn, I'd like to be that bicycle seat. Thought that one a million times). The problem I had was one of esteem. My dad bought me many fine toys, I am thankful for that, but the things he gave to me were far from cool (except for the firearms). Dad presented me with the very same bicycle that Andy gave Opie after Opie forged his report card. Ya'll remember that one don't you? It seems that Miss Crump, Opie's teac...No wheelies, no jumping, (hey, we did this too, gen x can bite my ass). I witnessed Jan: A Dog fly thought the air at crazy speeds and altitudes...it did not always end pleasant, much like his life.