âthe way it was & still should beâ
Cochise CHOPS Magazine
This magazine is NOT politically correct!!! We deal with mainly old bikes, old cars, old people and young folks who have their heads on straight, who are tired of status quo, and walking on egg shells so as to keep the peace. Socialism & Liberalism SUCKS!!! We bleed Red, White & Blue!!! cochisechops@yahoo.com or (386) 690-6270 Our New Salesman, Shiny (386) 278-3370 âWhere Old School âNEVERâ Went Out Of Style!!!â
On The Cover Is Crystal From KY
July 7: Daytona Abate Monthly Meeting
July 7: Swap Meet @ Webster
July 14: Swap Meet @ Teddy Morseâs HD
July 20: Tyson Vs. Paul Fight Live On Netflix
July 20: Mystery Ride The Boat Bar 10AM $5 (includes meal)
July 28: Freedom Ride To???
Aug 3: Too Broke For Sturgis Party @ Piratâs Pub Paisley FL
Sept 2: Blue Plate Special Antique Bike Show @ The Boot Hill
Oct 17: CHOPPER TIME @ Tropical Tattoo
Read CHOPS Online NOW At cochisechopsmag.com
Services:
*Volusia Powder Coating, NSB
*Street Thunder, HD, Mims, FL
*Annie Oakleyâs Ormond Beach
*Doom Town Choppers, NSB, FL
*Motorcycle Detailing, Daytona Beach
*V Twin Spealities (386) 310*8333
Other Services:
*Wind Walkerâs Leather
*Super Wash Bike Wash, OB, FL
*A Ok Guns, New Smyrna Beach
*Once Upon A Wall Murals & Paintings
*Tropical Tattoo (386) 672*1888
*Tobacco Exoctical Cigar Super Store
July 28th, Freedom Ride
Chops
4
Watering Holes:
*The Boot Hill Saloon On Main
*The Boot Hill Outpost, Ormond
*Pirateâs Pub, Paisley, FL
*Waldenâs Bar, Daytona Beach
*The Boat Bar, Port Orange, FL
*The Most Read Magazine
*Foxhead Lounge In Osteen, FL
*OBâs Deland, FL
*Sorry Charlies, Samsula, FL
*The Last Resort Bar, Port Orange
Take A Ride South On Route 1 To Mims, FL For Whatever You Need These Men Are Good People ~ Cochise
Chops 5 Have You Stopped In To See Big Paul, Lately? You Wonât Be Sorry!!!
Chops 6 Have we Bad Azz Bikers become Politically Correct like the Citizens!!! Or just Dying off??? ~ Cochise
cochisechops@yahoo.com or (386) 690-6270
www.cochisechopsmag.com
I just want to encourage you to go for a long ride this year, leave your zip code, leave your area code, hit the road for 3, 4 or 20 days. Go see America, go visit old friends & maybe even some of your âsquareâ family, LOL!!! Time is getting short, so donât use it up wishing or thinking, just Go, Go & Go!!!
There is no one who likes sitting around at a bar or eating place & shooting the bull, or âgiggingâ on one another, like we have done on the last two Freedom Rides, like me. However as much as that may suffice a lot for me to enjoy life as a rider, NOTHING fulfills my life as a biker more than to hit the open road, whether itâs a 500 mile trip or a 5,000 one. These trips take away my pain and frees my mind every passing mile & day, and I believe it would yours also. So plan a trip, you donât have to camp or stay with friends, get a room, rest, reminisce about the day. Go to sleep early & get up just as early to hit Americaâs roads while the temps are low. Believe me, it will warm up as the day goes by. Enjoy what you love as a biker, JUST GO!!!
Why I donât like staying with friends on a trip? They feel like they have to entertain you, but for me I like to eat (so we can go do that), go to a room and jump in the sack. Most of the time I canât hear what people are talking about anyway, because of âwind noiseâ, which I get even after wearing ear plugs. So I donât stay with anyone, other than super close family, because after 500 to 800 miles, I donât want entertainment, but a meal, a shower & a bed!!!
Do you know of anyone who would like to learn to do the magazine? Someone that can put it together, with me teaching them. Look, I promise you that if I can do this, so can you. I still type with 2 fingers and not very fast. Iâve taught myself on how to insert pics and such, (thatâs why they are sometimes stretched, blurred, etc. LOL), so I know you can do it. I also will tell you, that you ainât gonna make
Godâs Corner By Cochise
ABORTION ON DEMAND!!! SAME SEX MARRIAGES!!! QUEERS GOING TO PUBLIC SCHOOLS READING TO OUR BABIES!!! MORE THAN 2 SEXES!!! ANTI ~ANYTHING GOD!!! If you want ALL of this, then you do your thing, HOWEVER quit pushing your bull shit on everyone of us who disagrees with one or all of the above.
They say, âOnly God can judge meâ, but they say they donât believe in God, weird. BUT knowing God will judge us ALL one day should scare the heck out of us, as âwe all have sinned and fallen short of Godâ.
You can bet one thing, if there is a God and the Bible is true and Jesus is the way to Heaven, which I believe 100% is accurate, then making that statement should âShake You To The Very Core Of Your Existanceâ!!!
Donât brag about God will judge you like itâs NOT a big deal, or as in mocking Him. Galatians 6: 7 Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap. 8 For he who sows to his flesh will of the flesh reap corruption, but he who sows to the Spirit will of the Spirit reap everlasting life. You WILL REAP WHAT YOU HAVE SOWN!!!
I Corinthians 6:7 Now therefore, it is already an utter failure for you that you go to law against one another. Why do you not rather accept wrong? Why do you not rather let yourselves be cheated? 8 No, you yourselves do wrong and cheat, and you do these things to your brethren!
9 Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived. Neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor sodomites, 10 nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners will inherit the kingdom of God.
11 And such were some of you. But you were washed, but you were sanctified, but you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus and by the Spirit of our God.
Were You? Are You? Have you been washed? sanctified & justified???
Chops 8
âWHERE THE LOCALSâ âHANG OUTâ
About 1 Mile South Of I-95, On Hwy 1
FULL LIQUOR BAR ICE COLD BEER
BLOODY MARY SUNDAYS POOL
LARGE OUTDOOR PATIO
âOwned By The Bestâ
any money at it, (unless you have a business, then you can do real good, call me for details), but itâs the love for wanting to do it, that makes it worth while. Oh, you can make money, if you wanted to branch out farther than Volusia County, or if you want it to become all advertisements, but thatâs just not me.
I use to be in Seminole, Brevard & Flagler Counties, but the ads didnât pay for the time & gas it took to go there to deliver & then chase down your money. Thatâs the part Bianca hates & doesnât understand, but itâs not just those places, it happens here as well. That is why I started leaving SASEâs for them, BUT.................I will say 90% of my advertisers pay on time each month!!!
Yes I still want to sell it, but right now I would settle for some office (if you want to call it that) help. I will let you do as much writing & researching stories as you want. They just have to be 1980âs and back, or something interesting today, like politics, BUT only if your view is conservative in nature. NO LIBERALS NEED TO APPLY!!! By the way, I do not or ever apologize for being that, conservative, as I will until my dying breath fight for trying to preserve everything our nation was built upon. Morals, virtues and yes Jesusâ teachings.
P.S. FJB & All Elected National Democrats!!! ~Cochise
A Guy Takes His Girlfriend To Her First Football Game. They had great seats right behind their teamâs bench.
After the game, he asked her how she liked the experience.
âOh, I really liked it,â she replied, âespecially the tight pants and all the big muscles, but I just couldnât understand why they were killing each other over 25 cents.â
Dumbfounded, her date asked, âWhat do you mean?â
âWell, they flipped a coin, one team got it, and then for the rest of the game, all they kept screaming was, âGet the quarterback! Get the quarterback!â Iâm like, hello? Itâs only 25 cents!â
RED SKELTONâS SECRET TO THE PERFECT MARRIAGE
1. Two times a week we go to a nice restaurant, have a little beverage, good food and companionship. She goes on Tuesdays, I go on Fridays.
2. We also sleep in separate beds. Hers is in California and mine is in Texas.
3. I take my wife everywhere, but she keeps finding her way back.
4. I asked my wife where she wanted to go for our anniversary. âSomewhere I havenât been in a long time!â she said. So I suggested the kitchen.
5. We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.
6. She has an electric blender, electric toaster and electric bread maker. She said âThere are too many gadgets, and no place to sit down!â So I bought her an electric chair.
7. My wife told me the car wasnât running well because there was water in the carburetor. I asked where the car was. She told me, âIn the lake.â
8. She got a mud pack and looked great for two days. Then the mud fell off.
9. She ran after the garbage truck, yelling, âAm I too late for the garbage?â The driver said, âNo, jump in!â.
10. Remember: Marriage is the number one cause of divorce.
11. I married Miss Right. I just didnât know her first name was âAlwaysâ.
12. I havenât spoken to my wife in 18 months. I donât like to interrupt her.
13. The last fight was my fault though. My wife asked, âWhatâs on the TV?â
I said, âDust!â.
Canât you just hear him say all of these? I love it. These were the good old days when humor didnât have to start with a four letter word or political. It was just clean and simple fun. And he always ended his programs with the words, âAnd May God Blessâ with a big smile on his face.
Getting The Old Shovel Ready For The BLUE PLATE Antique Bike Show
Sept. 3nd 2pm - 4pm Boot Hill
Saloon
My Daughter, Now 45 Cleaning On My Old 1973 Superglide This Was In 1983
This Is My Wifeâs Thing. Bianca Is So Talented & Can Really Liven Up Any Area With A Mural
745 S Beach St Daytona Beach, FL 32114 Home Of Cold Beer * Good Tunes * Friendly People
Cornhole Tournament Every Sunday at 1PM
9-Ball On Mondays at 7:30PM 8-ball On Wednesday at 7:30PM
Waldenâs is celebrating their76th Anniversary all year, so stop by and wish Kaylynn & Crew the BEST!!! ~ Cochise
Come Hang Out With Us And Enjoy
âDonât Forget To Broke For Sturgis Party 8/3â
Pirates Pub, Paisley, FL
December 22nd,1989
âDonât
Forget To Broke For Sturgis Party 8/3â Pirates Pub, Paisley, FL
Chops 24
âDonât Forget To Broke For Sturgis Party 8/3â
Roberts-Sanfelipo & Kip Kotler
Vicki
Micky Lynn A Beautiful Person
Shiny The Rider
Always Ready
So there he was, on the side of the road, again. This wasnât the first time the old Panhead had quit on him. It was an older hand me down chopper that needed some TLC and more, just like he was.
He mused, after high school, the draft got him, and he wound up in that Vietnam mess, as a Foward Observer for an artillery company. Heâd spent weeks in the field, so long his socks and underwear rotted clean off him, at times he buried them, so the enemy wouldnât smell him a half a click away.
That was in past now, heâd made it back without a scratch, or so he thought. Being stuck on the side of the road wasnât so bad after what heâd been thru. Or so he thought.
But it it was the night, the shadows that followed him. Heâd left the club, they didnât get it, and thought he was crazy. Well, after that night behind the bar, he wasnât so sure he wasnât.
The beer didnât go down well, the band was poor, and heâd gone out back for some fresh air. The fog had set in, and the night was hot and humid, like Nam, and somehow he thought he saw a enemy sniper across the little creek behind the dirt parking lot.
He had been gone for some time, and the guys came looking for him. They found him prone on the muddy bank, staring across the creek bank at what he was sure was a sniper in the trees. Heâd flashed back, and it wasnât the first time the night time shadows, a bike backfire, or a loud noise set him off.
So he left it all, trying the evade the memories of that war.
Stuck on the side of the rural highway, with a broken down motorcycle, wasnât so bad at all. Until it got dark.
~ Ken Bradway
This is an amazing story that was written by David J. Krajicek in the New York Daily News on May 11, 2013: âIt was that moment late at night that every touring club band must endure: begging for their fee. While the roadie packed the last of the gear, bass player Berry Oakley approached the Buffalo clubâs owner, Angelo Aliotta. Aliotta offered $500 for the two shows that night, April 29, 1970. But the band had $1,000 coming.
Oakley knew this tune by heart. He went to the bandâs hotel and informed the tour manager, Twiggs Lyndon Jr., that they were being chiseled.
Lyndon was in no mood. The up-and-coming Southern rockers had been on the road for five months, crisscrossing the country to promote their debut album: âThe Allman Brothers Band.â They had opened for Chicago at SUNY-Stony Brook on Long Island the previous night, then hightailed 500 miles across the state in their Winnebago to make the Wednesday night gig at Aliottaâs Lounge, on Hertel Ave. in North Buffalo. They were to continue on to one-nighters in Cleveland and Pennsylvania before heading home to Georgia for a much-needed week off.
Lyndon, though just 27, was a veteran rock ânâ roll road warrior. He had stumbled into a job as tour manager for Little Richard, a fellow native of Macon, Ga., when he was 23 and fresh out of the Navy. He went on to manage tours for Percy Sledge (âWhen a Man Loves a Womanâ), then wrangled R&B stars Otis Redding and Sam and Dave for a Stax Records tour of Europe.
When brothers Duane and Gregg Allman put together a band in 1969 for Maconâs Capricorn Records, Lyndon was hired as road
Chops 46
manager.
âHe was so organized and anal about everything,â Gregg Allman later wrote. âThe world was never perfect enough for Twiggs Lyndon.â
No detail was lost on him. For example, he drew up a list of the legal age of sexual consent for each state and made copies for the band, according to Allman Brothers biographer Scott Freeman.
âThere wasnât much Twiggs couldnât fix,â Freeman wrote. He was fiercely devoted to his musicians. âTwiggs didnât have a short fuse, but if it burned down, look out,â Gregg Allman wrote. That night in Buffalo, âTwiggs was gonna make sure we got our money.â
Lyndon stormed out of the hotel, his brown mane trailing behind and the leather sheath of his 10-inch fishing knife bouncing at his hip. Allman said, âTwiggs, maybe you shouldnât take that knife with you.â
Lyndon didnât listen. He went to the club and confronted Aliotta. The owner argued that the Allmans were late for their first show. He said he would pony up the $500 if they agreed to play a makeup set the following night. Lyndon cursed and whipped out his knife. As six witnesses watched, the two men grappled to the barroom floor, where Aliotta soon lay groaning.
Lyndon got up, found a chair and calmly sat down. âI stuck him,â he drawled. âI donât care if I get the electric chair. I proved a point.â Aliotta was dead an hour later, and Lyndon was charged with firstdegree murder and locked up without bail.
The Allman Brothersâ Winnebago pulled out of Buffalo that day, bound for Cleveland. But the band made sure Lyndon got a good lawyer. In fact, he got a humdinger: John Condon Jr.
There was no doubt that Lyndon had stabbed the unarmed Aliotta in an argument over money. That was not a narrative a Buffalo jury would have viewed with sympathy, especially when the perp was a long-haired Southerner. But Condon saw another defense: temporary insanity induced by the burnout of a rock ânâ roll lifestyle.
He asked for a bench trial, without a jury, gambling that it would be easier to convince a judge than a conservative jury that Lyndon had been afflicted with amphetamine psychosis after five exhausting months of babysitting a band. Managing a rock ânâ roll tour would drive anyone nuts, Condon said.
To prove his point, he called bassist Berry Oakley as an expert on narcotics abuse on the road.
âDid you take any dope in the last month?â Condon asked.
âUh-huh,â Oakley replied.
âIn the last week?â
âOh, yeah,â the musician said.
âWhat about in the last hour?â
âYou bet,â said Oakley.
Condonâs strategy worked. Lyndon was judged not guilty by reason of insanity. He spent 18 months in jail before trial, then about six months locked up in a psych ward.
By the summer of 1972, he was back on the road with the Allman Brothers Band, which toured relentlessly even after the motorcyclewreck deaths in Macon of Duane Allman in 1971 and Berry Oakley in 1972.
Later in the 1970s, Lyndon toured with the Dixie Dregs, a jazz-rock fusion band.
Along the endless road, he became an avid skydiver, logging more than 300 jumps. On Nov. 16, 1979, as the Dregs were meandering toward a gig in Syracuse, Lyndon squeezed in a sky dive from an airplane based in upstate Duanesburg.
At 8,500 feet, Twiggs Lyndon exited the plane. He enjoyed a glorious view of the Catskills to the south and the Adirondacks to the north. His chute didnât open. He was 37âŚâ
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Ben Johnson 1953: âAt the end of the year, I didnât have $3, All I had was a wore-out automobile and a mad wife.â
So, the 6-foot-2 Johnson returned to the movies, where he had worked as a stunt double for Gary Cooper, Joel McCrea, Gene Autry and Roy Rogers. He was working as a 21-year-old Oklahoma ranch hand when his big break occurred. Johnson delivered 16 horses to a movie set â earning the unheard of sum of $300 â and was hired by producer Howard Hughes as a stuntman and wrangler. He also met his wife, Carol, on that trip to Flagstaff, Ariz.
His next big break came in 1947, when he was working as a stunt double for Henry Fonda in âFort Apacheâ and saved three stuntmenâs lives when he courageously stopped a runaway wagon in a
scene-gone-wrong. Director John Ford rewarded him with a sevenyear contract at $5,000 a week. Some of Johnsonâs top movies include âThe Wild Bunch,â âShane,â âShe Wore a Yellow Ribbon,â âRio Grande,â âChisum,â âThe Sugarland Expressâ and âAngels in the Outfield.â
Johnson, who died in 1996, amassed a fortune â much of it through real estate investments â valued at $200 million in the 1980s. He was inducted into the ProRodeo Hall of Fame with the inaugural 1979 class and received a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame in 1994.
Nice Long Run!
âNo, I ainât talkinâ âbout no marathonâ! Woops! Thatâs wasnât proper grammar. Mom would be very disappointed in me. I meant to say âNo, Iâm not referring to running in a marathonâ... Thatâs better. If youâve ever thought about taking a ride thatâs both lengthy and picturesque, (and I know you have), this just may be the ride youâre looking for. Saint Augustine!!
Recently, we did just that and it went something like this... No matter where youâre starting from, find a path that will steer your ship east to Atlantic Ave., (aka A1A). And by ship I mean your ride. Our path was Dunlawton Ave. that steered our ride east right to Atlantic then left onto Atlantic, (north). Now the view heading up Floridaâs beautiful right coast is pretty much the same, hotels, restaurants, bars, shops, and people, until you clear Ormond-By-The-Sea. There, it seems as though the starboard side, (thatâs the right side to you land lubbers), just opens up to the seemingly never ending pond known as The Atlantic Ocean. Magnificent View!
Keep one eye on the ocean and the other on the road, safety first, and you may just catch a glimpse of a whale trying to fly. But, as nature would have it, gravity is stronger then even a whale and back into the water they fall. Good thing, too, theyâre much more comfortable in the sea then in the air.
For a fairly long stretch, itâs just you, the road, the ocean, and the sea oats flashing by at fifty five. Outstanding view, isnât it? Can you see it? Did you catch that flying whale? No? Well, maybe next time. I know youâll make this trip again. Going to rotate the speedometers down to what feels like a snailâs pace of thirty five as you approach Flagler Beach. Nothing on the right side but the Flagler pier with the ocean as itâs backdrop. The water doesnât seem very angry today. Basically flat with the occasional three to four wave sets rolling in as if someone grabbed the other side of the water and gave it a gentle shake up and down like a bedsheet. Very Pleasant!! Please donât misunderstand, there are still miles of the mundane but seeing Flagler Beach in the review mirrors then leads you through homes, (some very nice homes), shops, restaurants, bars, etc. You know, some of the same stuff you see while riding around your little slice of Heaven. Similar, but different.
Still a nice view but with a little less saltwater.
Traffic gets a bit thicker as you approach St. Augustine and climb the bridge over the same river that Dunlawton carried you over earlier and drops you right smack dab into downtown Saint Augustine! Very Historic!! Old shops, old churches, old cemeteries, and old roads. Not that old is bad, old represents History. Take some time to stop and take some of it in. Have a bite and a sip. Youâre in no hurry. Then youâll need to trickle your way through the gaggle of traffic, and there will be a gaggle of it, north on US1.This is, after all a tourist attraction mixed with all of the locals who live here, too. Just be patient, it moves pretty well. As soon as you bang into Highway sixteen, âGo West Young Manâ. That would be a left if your confused.
This, again, turns into a very scenic part of the ride but a part from the ocean and sand. This transforms your journey into a two lane road dotted with an occasional home or shop. But now, the curvy road slithers under a canopy of trees. Nice change, huh? Can you see the change? Look again. Donât want you to miss anything. We came across a small bridge that jumps over a small river. At the riverâs TDC, (thatâs Top Dead Center to those of you who arenât engine builders), Donna noticed a park on the right. âCan we stop and give our seats a rest, and I donât mean our bikeâs seatsâ? Right turn into the park, found a large tree to act as our own personal umbrella, planted the kickstand, and we had landed. We each grabbed some hydration from the cooler and decided to take a little walk around, you know, to give our seats a rest.
âFourteen Pounds, Two Ouncesâ!! Screamed a load speaker. We looked at each other as to say âWhat the heck was thatâ? Twelve Pounds, Four Ouncesâ!! Again, from the load speaker. We had rolled right into the middle of a Bass Fishing Tournament Weigh-In. Boy, did that take me back a few decades. Come, walk back there with me. I donât want to go alone. We used to load up our little camper van with camping gear, our two youngins, and some clothes, hook up the Checkmate Bass Boat and have it push us down the highway towards Lake Okeechobee for what was a monthly Bass Fishing Tourney I used to enter with my Dad. This would have been in the early ninetys, I guess. Spending the weekend with my folks, spending the day in a boat on the lake with my Dad... Priceless! God how I miss those.....................Pg 57
My grandmother, Grace Caldwell Bayes, was born on May 20, 1910. When I was a child and needed a home, she took me in. I spent about half of my childhood under her care. She looked after me. She cared about me. Such things were at a premium in my spotty childhood. She was a walking, breathing stereotype, tough as an old boot with a heart of gold. She was born on Mud Creek, in eastern Kentucky, 3 miles south of a godforsaken hamlet by the name of Tram. On the 1920 census, sheâs listed as Gracie, 10 years old.
By the time I tumbled into her life, she had lived through two world wars and had birthed and raised seven daughters. She had four teeth, untreated diabetes, a bad case of arthritis, and bulging varicose veins. Despite the aches and pains, I remember her working that old farm in her bare feet, day in, day out, singing songs about Jesus and warning me about the devil. She usually wore a big scarf around her head like a Russian peasant and looked twenty years older than her actual age.
I traipsed after her, wanting to help. Mostly, however, I was an overeager, inept little companion. But I tried to overcome that with my willingness to risk life and limb to win her approval.
We were partners, and we were always doing. Sometimes we would wander out into the fields foraging for a mess of greens. Other times we would kill a chicken. In the evenings we would sit on the porch and snap green beans, and we would play word games and, in the fading light, she would tell me stories about the old times. About bad old times. I still love words, like she did, and people tell me Iâm a story-teller, like she was. I like to think that, like she was, Iâm tough as an old boot, and I am certain that whatever kindness lies within me, I gained from her for she was the kindest person I have ever known. All of that is my inheritance. From Gracie, born on Mud Creek. Iâm grown now, grown old now, but Iâll tell you straight out that losing her still cuts through my soul. This is NOT my g-mother Cochise
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days...AND my folks. Thanks for that little walk.......Sorry, I had something in my eye.
Once out of the park, just follow the Highway sixteen signs and theyâll guide you right to Highway seventeen. But first, thereâs a pretty long bridge that skims across the St. Johnâs River. Almost feels like youâre riding right above the ripples. Left onto Highway seventeen and heading towards Palatka. Highway seventeen is four lane divided, sixty five mph. Nothing to see but road and farmland. Mesmerizing!
Time to switch eyes. The eye you had on whale watch earlier to your right, now needs to be on the road and your left eye needs to watch the left side of the road, because out of nowhere a building is going to pop up. A place called Boogerville Hideout. No Boogerville isnât a town, itâs a bar. Great place to take another break. But in our case, this was the destination, at least for this ride. Now, if youâre still a bit confused, you have to turn right when you leave Boogerville and execute a U-turn to head South on Highway seventeen. In about thirty miles or so, youâll stumble across The Cheyanne Saloon. Know where you are now? Still a pretty good ride from home for us, but thatâs how you finish a.............Nice Long Run! ~Gregg Riggle.
Morris and his wife Esther went to the state fair every year, and every year Morris would say, âEsther, Iâd really like to ride in that helicopter.â Esther always replied, âI know Morris, but that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollarsâ. One year Esther and Morris went to the fair, and Morris said, âEsther, Iâm 85 years old. If I donât ride that helicopter, I might never get another chance.â
To this, Esther replied, âMorris that helicopter ride is fifty dollars, and fifty dollars is fifty dollars.â The pilot overheard the couple and said, âFolks Iâll make you a deal. Iâll take the both of you for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and donât say a word I wonât charge you a penny! But if you say one word itâs fifty dollars.â
Morris and Esther agreed and up they went. The pilot did all kinds of fancy manoeuvres, but not a word was heard. He did his daredevil tricks over and over again, but still not a word. When they landed, the pilot turned to Morris and said, âBy golly, I did everything I could to get you to yell out, but you didnât. Iâm impressed!â
Morris replied, âWell, to tell you the truth, I almost said something when Esther fell out, but you know, fifty dollars is fifty dollars!â Oh no!!!
Found a pic of what looks like Kathy getting ready to cold cock Bones!!! LOL
Who is this guy Bones? I remember the day he came into my life. B & I were sitting at Bucket Headâs BBQ in Ormond By The Sea, watching the ocean, when he & his wife pull in to grab a beer & spots me. It was Friendship at 1st sight!
