Originally Posted by
7milesout
Mitsu - Seeing your pictures makes me feel a bit sentimental. My dad, when he was growing up, never got to play in any recreational sports. His mother wouldn't let him. And he also had a cross-eye. He had a rough childhood. He wanted to play sports in high school, but still his mother. He was so torn up about it, when he turned 16 (1958) he quit high school and joined the U.S. Army, telling them he was 18 or whatever age he needed to be to get in. In the army they fixed his crossed-eye, a couple surgical procedures. Lots of drama before and after the crossed-eye.
Anywho - he was stationed in Ingrandes, France when he was in. He always talked LOVINGLY about France. He loved the people, the countryside, where he was stationed, etc. He got to drive all kind of big trucks and half-track kind of vehicles. He said there was this one small French town where, through escort by the French police (there was a name for these guys, Interpol maybe?), he had to drive some big wide truck through town and he said there was this one spot in town where he would miss buildings on either side by mere inches, and the French authorities guiding him through would be waving him through feverishly, like they wanted him to go even faster, and he felt like he was BLAZING through town as it was. He learned some French. And said EVERY SINGLE FREE DAY / WEEKEND he got, he'd spend all his money renting motorcycles and driving all over southern France, up to Paris and over to Normandy. He said, other guys would be trying to save their money and stay on base. But he knew he'd never get to come back to France, so he was willing to spend all his money to SEE it. He loved the motorcycles they had over there at that time, said they rode wonderfully.
He said the French people always treated him with respect every where he went and he loved them for it. Before he passed away, I tried to talk him into a trip for he and I to fly over France, and he and I could go visit his old Army base (which is now an Industrial Business Park), and he and I could tour around all the same places and see that little town he used to dodge buildings in. But, he was sort of a homebody. And so addicted to smoking, he couldn't sit on a plane that long without smoking. I wish we had made it over there.
So thanks for your pictures!