I am NOT the oldest person here !

It;s been too quiet on this thread lately. Is everyone as stuffed as the thanksgiving bird? As a suggestion why don't we replay some of the stories from "the day". Just don't ab-lib them too much, and be careful what you admit to, there is a 7 year statute on fed level as to drugs. I'll kick it off with this........

　
It was the last day of work before Christmas 1977 in Houston, Texas and we were taking it easy before we knocked off at noon. One of my co-workers asked if I would like some hash and of course I said yeah. It seems her husband was a merchant seaman and had his California nephews talk him into smuggling some cannabis into the US, which he had done, but he became paranoid about shipping it to Cali and was fixing to flush it when his wife suggested that I might want it. I followed her to their house where I met her husband and his gift of “hash”, which turned out to be quart jar full of ping-pong size buds. Never looking a gift horse in the mouth, I inquired as to where he had acquired this and he stated Indonesia , he even included a pack of buglar papers. After several attempts to pay him, I said thanks and headed to the house, approximately an hour away. When I got close to the interstate system I stopped at a service station ( remember them?) and twisted up a pinner with the buglar’s. An incredible high, clear, clean, straight-up and you never got tired of it. Needless to say the drive to house was one of pure joy as were the days that followed. Out of all of my over 50 Christmases, this became one of the most memorable.
Peace
COF
 
Okay, I've got several, but I'll save some for later.

This was 1975 and I was in high school at that time. So it was Xmas day and my parents were having a big party/dinner and wanted me to be present. I had a part time job jerkin gas. Now back in the day, all stations were manned by someone and most folks never got out of their car. I even used to do pretty well on tips ... it was the perfect high school job.
So I had to work Xmas day on my schedule and couldn't get out of it, but I really didn't want to expecting a BIG tip day. Well, I had a close buddy who said he wasn't doing much and he could take my shift. I asked my boss and he said OK (times have changed folks).
It was a pretty darn cold Xmas day as I recall, and right around 6'oclock, the shift would be over and the station closed early. I leave the party and drove the 7 miles to the station where my friend "Chuck" is huddled in the pretty much all glass front room smokin a cig and sitting right in front of the heater.

My buddy did a great job and earned some good tip money for himself early on, but the money wonder had worn off and it had been dead for 2 hours and now he was concentrating on how cold he was. He complained that everyone was drunk and he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. He just wasn't used to it....:wink:

So right after this, a car pulls up to one of the pumps, and I'm like , hey dude, I'll get it, you just stay right here on the heater. My buddy was like, oh man, thanks.

I go out there to the car and it was an amazingly beautiful woman completely buck naked!! Now I was not the man I am today....I was 16. After closing my mouth, she rolled the window down, ahem which perked things up for both of us, she asks me how to get to NYC. She was definitely messed up and must have been doing something heavy. I was like a robot though..... go 4 miles down 17 and take 3 east and u'll hit the tunnel. I had been asked that question so many times, it was simply automatic.

After going back and forth comically a few times, uhhh no, route 3, 4 miles down...not route 4, 3 miles down ...etc. She kept saying it backwards as she was laughing. She finally gets it. I'm telling you all I could basically do was stare at her really beautiful tits which were at full attention.
She then just looks up at me and says, wanna go somewhere and party? Now I'm dying inside at this point. She was beautiful and quite naked ... ahem ... and WILLING!!
But alas, Cracker has always been level headed. I knew we had all this company and my parents wanted me there and to return to the party the nice kid I left as. Then there was my buddy freezing his arse off inside the glass office. I couldn't leave him there.
I apologized to the lady, and told her I just couldn't, even though I really really would like to. She was definitely glazed, and understood. Smiling sweetly she gave me a nice fat joint as a tip ans said, maybe next time. She driove off finally and left me there, exhilerated in the freezing temps.

Of course when I got back inside, my buddy was like, what took you so long? I smiled and told him the whole story.... man, he got super pissed off..... 4 %#&*^$ hours and you walk in and the FIRST customer is that lady!!!! U &$%#@#$ bastard!!! :lol:

Then I whipped out the fattie,and he about died. We toked that puppy up after turning the station lights off and then went on home.

I have another story which happened later that night, but I'll wait a bit. It was quite a day and night ... :lol:
 
Great story. Back in the early 80's, I was taking the Amtrak from Montreal to Essex Vt. I was going to a buddies party who lived in Vermont. I had a few grams of Kashmir hash on me and kept it in my change flap in my wallet. anyways when US customs boarded the train to do their thing, everything went ok.....so I thought. After asking the standard questions, they moved on to the next people. About 10 minutes later, they came back and asked my buddy and I to follow them. In the dining car they asked me for my wallet and right away opened the change flap and found the 2 grams of hash. They searched the rest of our stuff and didn't find anything else. That freaked the shit out of me.How did he know about it? I never told anyone about it.They gave me a ticket for $50.00 and told me to pay it right away which I did.They took my hash and let me continue on my way to VT. There is no record of this at all because I have crossed hundreds of times since then and nothing ever comes up. I 've often wondered why but I don't take chances like that anymore.
 
Gosh, I thought I was sort of old at 42. Baggies were around when I started at 15 and sold depending on fingers (1 finger=$10, 2=$15 and 3=$20). All the seed you could stand and quite a bit of stem as well. Being in an "agricultural" area, I had a few connections that had good stuff every few months so I would stock up. We would smoke the Mexi dirt weed when the good was dry.

My parents did not smoke, but most of my friends' parents did and they would tell us of the old days while cringing at what we were smoking. Seems the older generation always had the good stuff...makes sense now as they were making their own I suppose.
 
Nice stories guys...ahh the memories.



Hey CJ
Wow I know the area you described in your amusing anecdote.
I obtained my first drivers license in Lodi, right off of Rte 17.
I lived (for a while) right off of good old Rte 3!
And not far from this locale, the following took place:
I landed a job with a moving company in the early 1970s. I remember getting to work a little bit early in order to not be late, in those days punctuality seemed to be a more important concept than it is now. (But I will leave politics aside…hahaha!)
Well I show up in the muster room awaiting my training job assignment.
I was told by the office manager that I was to go on a packing job with the head packer and that I was to learn from him. Well I dutifully followed instructions and got into the packing truck with “Hoss”.
Hoss was a big guy who was nicknamed after Hoss from the Bonanza TV show. This was a little odd I thought because Hoss was big, but he was also black! I grew up in a lily-white suburb and there was only one black kid in my HS and his name was (no kidding) George Wallace. I had very little experience with black people, and being the new guy, I was a bit intimidated. Well as we headed off to the packing job, Hoss pulled out a big fat joint and proceeded to fire it up. My initial response was to not partake, because I was supposed to learn how to pack and being stoned would not help me very much…I rapidly changed my mind when my nostrils took in a large quantity of second hand smoke exhaled by Hoss after his first long pull on the doober. What an aromatic delight! Wow, nice and tasty I thought to myself as I deeply inhaled my first draw. The weed was quite potent, and I was thoroughly buzzed by my third toke or so…what kind of a job is this going to be, I mused??……my mind was soaring and wandering in the stratosphere and I knew not how I could function.
Somehow or other I was able to concentrate and actually learn how to pack household items for a move. (The majority of weed in those days was sativa or I would not have been able function!) Hoss became a good friend and was an outstanding source for superior buds. I worked at the job for a few years and became pretty good at it…I became a commissioned packer and I actually got paid per carton for my work, plus I was able to earn tips as well. I made enough at this job to buy a brand new car for myself…A 1975 Honda Civic…I was determined to get a car that would get good gas mileage, I paid only $3400 out the door with a few options! Wow those were the days!
Cheap buds, cheap gas and no AIDs and no Internet… it truly was a different reality!
 
CdnBud said:
Great story. Back in the early 80's, I was taking the Amtrak from Montreal to Essex Vt. I was going to a buddies party who lived in Vermont. I had a few grams of Kashmir hash on me and kept it in my change flap in my wallet. anyways when US customs boarded the train to do their thing, everything went ok.....so I thought. After asking the standard questions, they moved on to the next people. About 10 minutes later, they came back and asked my buddy and I to follow them. In the dining car they asked me for my wallet and right away opened the change flap and found the 2 grams of hash. They searched the rest of our stuff and didn't find anything else. That freaked the shit out of me.How did he know about it? I never told anyone about it.They gave me a ticket for $50.00 and told me to pay it right away which I did.They took my hash and let me continue on my way to VT. There is no record of this at all because I have crossed hundreds of times since then and nothing ever comes up. I 've often wondered why but I don't take chances like that anymore.
Click to expand...

Okay, that is definitely weird!!! How the heck could they possibly know that? Probably Nixon. :lol:

klmmicro said:
Gosh, I thought I was sort of old at 42. Baggies were around when I started at 15 and sold depending on fingers (1 finger=$10, 2=$15 and 3=$20). All the seed you could stand and quite a bit of stem as well. Being in an "agricultural" area, I had a few connections that had good stuff every few months so I would stock up. We would smoke the Mexi dirt weed when the good was dry.

My parents did not smoke, but most of my friends' parents did and they would tell us of the old days while cringing at what we were smoking. Seems the older generation always had the good stuff...makes sense now as they were making their own I suppose.
Click to expand...

I can still remember going over to the very same buddies older brothers (by about 10 years) apartment and watching his wife roll these perfect joints with one dainty little hand as she talked to you without interruption. :lol: They always had the good stuff, so in the end, we did also.

Wavels said:
Nice stories guys...ahh the memories.



Hey CJ
Wow I know the area you described in your amusing anecdote.
I obtained my first drivers license in Lodi, right off of Rte 17.
I lived (for a while) right off of good old Rte 3!
And not far from this locale, the following took place:
I landed a job with a moving company in the early 1970s. I remember getting to work a little bit early in order to not be late, in those days punctuality seemed to be a more important concept than it is now. (But I will leave politics aside…hahaha!)
Well I show up in the muster room awaiting my training job assignment.
I was told by the office manager that I was to go on a packing job with the head packer and that I was to learn from him. Well I dutifully followed instructions and got into the packing truck with “Hoss”.
Hoss was a big guy who was nicknamed after Hoss from the Bonanza TV show. This was a little odd I thought because Hoss was big, but he was also black! I grew up in a lily-white suburb and there was only one black kid in my HS and his name was (no kidding) George Wallace. I had very little experience with black people, and being the new guy, I was a bit intimidated. Well as we headed off to the packing job, Hoss pulled out a big fat joint and proceeded to fire it up. My initial response was to not partake, because I was supposed to learn how to pack and being stoned would not help me very much…I rapidly changed my mind when my nostrils took in a large quantity of second hand smoke exhaled by Hoss after his first long pull on the doober. What an aromatic delight! Wow, nice and tasty I thought to myself as I deeply inhaled my first draw. The weed was quite potent, and I was thoroughly buzzed by my third toke or so…what kind of a job is this going to be, I mused??……my mind was soaring and wandering in the stratosphere and I knew not how I could function.
Somehow or other I was able to concentrate and actually learn how to pack household items for a move. (The majority of weed in those days was sativa or I would not have been able function!) Hoss became a good friend and was an outstanding source for superior buds. I worked at the job for a few years and became pretty good at it…I became a commissioned packer and I actually got paid per carton for my work, plus I was able to earn tips as well. I made enough at this job to buy a brand new car for myself…A 1975 Honda Civic…I was determined to get a car that would get good gas mileage, I paid only $3400 out the door with a few options! Wow those were the days!
Cheap buds, cheap gas and no AIDs and no Internet… it truly was a different reality!
Click to expand...

Hahahah!!

Great story!! Hoss!!

My dad was born in Lodi I think. I grew up in Ridgewood. I gotta say growing up in Jersey during the 70's was F'n Bomb wicked. We used to play you folks in football I think. Clifton was always a tough game as was Garfield.
 
CrackerJax said:
My dad was born in Lodi I think. I grew up in Ridgewood. I gotta say growing up in Jersey during the 70's was F'n Bomb wicked. We used to play you folks in football I think. Clifton was always a tough game as was Garfield.
Click to expand...

Yes sir growing up in northern NJ was tons of fun, especially from the vantage point acquired through the passage of time.
I actually never lived in Lodi, it was simply the closest place to go to take my drivers test. I grew up in a little town in Bergen county---Norwood.
The moving company I worked for was in Hackensack...not too far from rte 46.
I went to HS in Oradell...BC!
I went to college in Upper Montclair.
I left NJ a long time ago...the sunbelt beckoned! :joint:
 
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