That's Linda and me, one of my high school besties. The look in her eyes makes me smile. We got up to some trouble. The photo was taken in 1978/79. I wish I knew who was behind the camera. I'm betting it was a boy I liked.
It's around the time in my life when I took up the challenge to become the exact opposite of what my father wanted. I do not regret choosing that option.
I was a bit wild. There were a few scary times.
Like when we crossed the Menesetung Bridge over the Maitland River. (Click the link for height context.)
Now it's part of a trail. Then it wasn't. There were no guard rails because adults didn't consider teenage high jinks.
We were up there in the middle of the night. Beer and dope were involved.
Did I mention I have a fear of heights? Or that the track was still in use?
Sane, well-behaved young people are a marvel. I've known a few. If you have one, treat them like a treasure.
The first restaurant I worked in was Pizza Train. The wallpaper behind us is a clue. (The recurring motif—tracks and trains—is pure coincidence.)
I love how we look in our "fry" person uniforms.
We balanced fun with responsibility. The owners left us alone.
One night, at a time when safety features on industrial mixers were optional, Linda put her arm into the bowl while it was moving to check the dough. I heard a scream and rushed into the room where she was working.
That's when my memory goes blank. What happened between seeing Linda after the accident to the point where she is being prepped for surgery is jet black.
I don't know who got help or if anyone else was there. I don't remember an ambulance.
She healed and was my friend for some time—we went on to be roommates.
I bought an Aerosmith album with one of my first Pizza Train paycheques.