My Best Friend in High School

I actually had two best friends when I was going to high school, one was Bill and the other was Jack. Jack  and I were more adventurous than Bill and I were. That didn't make me like one or the other any better, we just enjoyed different things. Jack and I loved the outdoors and we loved to go out and get into a little mischief, while Bill and I enjoyed movies and other things that were a little less adventurous. 

Some of the things that Jack and I would do was off road driving, target shooting, racing and even bull riding. I remember Jack had a 1955 Ford station wagon and he raised the springs so he would have more clearance under the car when driving off road. He didn't care where he drove that thing, anywhere he thought he could go, he tried. He loved to drive up past our lake in the area called Stevens Creek Reservoir. The lake was fed by Stevens Creek. It was a little creek that was mostly runoff from the mountains. It would have water most of the year but as the summer wound down it started to dry up. There was an asphalt road that followed the creek into the mountains for about 12 miles until it became a dirt road and continued for about 6 more miles where it ended at the creek. After that, there was a dirt road, if you want to call it a road, that went up the mountain. It was not very steep, it went up the side of the mountain at about a 20 degree embankment. 

One day Jack decided he was going to go up this road and see if he could get up to the top of the mountain. He started up the road and he was doing pretty good until he got to a section that was full of deep ruts from others going up the road when it was wet. Jack's station wagon was not four wheel drive so he didn't have very good traction. It was, after all, a 1955 Ford station wagon: not exactly built for off-road mountain climbing. If he hit a deep rut on one wheel it would spin and the other one did nothing. He tried and tried to get up past this very rutty section of the road but to no avail. He finally gave up as it got later in the day. We got in the car and he had to back down the road since there was no room to turn around, luckily it wasn't that far. Once he got  down the road where it was a little wider, he turned around and home we went.

Jack was pretty stubborn and he was not ready to give up climbing that mountain. He thought he needed more clearance so he jacked the car up at least another 3 inches. After getting more clearance he and I went back up the road. This time I drove my own car, a 62 red Ford Fairlane, my first car. I decided to bring along my dad's 12 gauge double barrel shotgun. I was going to do some shooting while Jack tried to conquer the mountain. I parked the car and got the shotgun out of the trunk and loaded up both barrels and started to shoot some cans and bottles. Jack revved up the Ford, popped the clutch and peeled out in the dirt and went up the road. I heard him slow down and then he revved up the engine again and I could hear him spinning the tires. He was stuck again, but he kept trying. Pretty soon I heard him go up the mountain a little farther. After a while, he was up so far that I could barely 

hear the car any more. A little while later, I heard the station wagon getting closer and I assumed he was coming back down. When he got to where I was, he stopped the car and got out. I asked him, "What happened?" He said, "The road ended." So we spent the rest of the day shooting the shotgun until we ran out of ammo. Then we got in our cars and drove back home. Since Jack had reached the end of the road, he gave up trying to get to the top of the mountain.

Another of our adventures was this place called Mosebee's. It was a place where you could pay a small amount and ride a bull. Actually they were steers, but I tell everyone  bulls because that sounds more macho than steers. Other friends that Jack and I hung around with were Dave and his brother Lynn. Lynn, who was 2 years older than the rest of us,  told us of this place and said "Let's go and we can ride the bulls." Now they did have a couple of bulls for the very brave, and in my opinion, the VERY BRAVE! So there was me and my brother John, Lynn and his brother Dave and his friend Glenn and Jack. We got  there and we watched some of the other fools that where dumb enough to pay their money to ride. Finally Jack said, "I'm going to ride one of those steers." I looked at him and said, "Are you serious? Come on Jack, you'll get killed." "No I won't," he replied. Lynn spoke up and said, "I'm going to ride one, too". I looked at John and then at Dave and said, "Are you two going to ride?" They looked at me as if I had a hole in my head. John said, "No way am I getting on one of those steers, are you?" I replied, "I'm thinking about it" "What about you Dave?" I inquired. "Not in a million years!" Dave said to me. Glenn spoke up and said, "I'm going to ride." Jack looked at me and said, "Come on man, let's do this together." I'd fallen for that line so many times, I  said, "Sure let's do it." 


I was the first to pay my money and risk my life. I was about to climb onto the steer when that crazy animal literally climbed up the side of the chute and up and over and ran down the arena area and back to where the herd was. I looked at that steer very close to see if it had any special markings, because I sure didn't want him again. Well, I noticed that he had a white star on his forehead. So when it was my turn again I told the guys that were helping us get on the steers and wrapping the rope around our hand that I didn't want the same steer that I was supposed to ride earlier. As I was putting on my leather gloves and getting ready to climb up the fence to get on the steer I saw that same star on the steer's forehead. I said, "Wait a minute, I don't want that one, he's crazy, he just climbed out of the chute". One of the guys helping us  said, "No that's not the same one." I said, "Yes it is." "No it's not!", he said very sternly, and told me to get on him. Well I gave in and stood on a rail on each side of the chute and slowly sat down on the beast. As soon as he felt me sit down on him he tried to climb up the side of the chute again. He didn't make it this time and I climbed up off him. We waited for him to settle down and I sat down on him again. He stomped around a bit, he moved back and forth what little he could. Finally he settled down a little and they were able to wrap the rope around my hand and then they put the flank strap on him and waited for me to give them the signal to go. 

The signal was to raise the opposite hand that wasn't wrapped with the rope and then nod my head. They would open the chute door and pull the flank strap up tight, this would encourage the steer to buck harder. Let me tell you, IT WORKED. The steer spun to the left as he came out of the chute, my hat went flying to the right. I held onto that rope as tight as I could. I really don't remember much about that rope. I do remember the steer bucking up and I went up with him. He went down and I started to come down just as he was going back up. We hit in the middle and that was it, I went sailing up above the steer and flew about 3 feet higher than the steer had bucked. Now my hand had come loose and as I came down there was no steer for me to land on. But there was some very hard ground to hit, and hit it I did. I landed on my tailbone and bounced. Talk about hurt! I was in such pain that my friends had to help me up. Jack had my hat, he stuck it on my head and said, "Way to go, cowboy!" The steer made a bee line to the holding pen. He just wanted to get back and wander around his pen with his buddies and eat. He didn't seem to care at all about me or my tailbone.


I went over to the fence on the other side of the arena and waited for Jack to make his ride. He got on  his steer and when he came out of the chute the steer just wanted to spin, trying to get Jack off his back.  We all were yelling and whistling for our friend. I'm sure they all yelled for me but I sure don't remember hearing anything except that steers snorting and hooves beating the ground. Eventually, the steer Jack was on threw him into the air and took off out from under Jack. It took about 4 seconds of the 8 seconds your ride is supposed to be. Lynn was next, he stayed on a little bit longer, about 5 1/2 seconds. Glenn chickened out. Mosebee's policy  was no refunds, but you could let someone else have your ride. Glenn asked, "Does anyone want to go again"? Jack spoke up, "Yeah, I'll go again". So we all sat on the fence and watched and cheered Jack on for his second ride. He didn't do any better but he had fun and avoided any injuries.


 It was time to go home. So we got in our cars and headed home. Me, John  and Jack were in my mom's 1960 Chevy Belair. And Glenn, Dave and Lynn were in Glenn's Studebaker. I don't remember what year he had but it was cool. Now, Mosebee's was in San Jose and we lived in Mountain View. Mountain View was about 12 miles north of San Jose. We had to drive on freeways, 101, 80 and 280 to get home. Being kids we thought we were invincible, so of course, we were going to race. As we made the transition from 101 to 80, that's when it happened, Glenn floored his Studebaker and passed me and I kicked that 283 into passing gear and took off. It didn't take but about 2 to 3 miles to catch him and pass him. When I did pass him I looked down at my speedometer and it read 102 MPH. John was in the back seat and he yelled at me to slow down and to put both hands on the steering wheel. I was soooo cool, I had one hand on the steering wheel and my other arm was out the window just as if I was out for a Sunday afternoon cruise. I wasn't about to slow down now, I had just passed them and I was staying in the lead. John yelled at me again to slow down. "Do you want to get caught by the cops?!?" John yelled in my ear. I didn't want to get caught, Mom and Dad would ground me for the rest of my life if I got a ticket for speeding and racing. I had promised them that I would not race on the freeways. How many kids made that promise?  By now we had traveled about 5 miles and Glenn had slowed down so I slowed down too. We had proven ourselves. After that it was an uneventful ride home, with no tickets and no accidents. 


Within a week I was feeling the effects of my bull riding adventure. I could hardly sit down or bend over, the tail bone area was very sore.  I had some other muscles that also were very sore. I went to the doctor and he said I had damaged my tailbone and I needed a shot of cortisone. The shot helped and it never bothered me again. Jack had some sore muscles also, but he didn't hurt anything like I did. We talked about that for weeks upon weeks. We never did go back but it sure was a special thing for some high school kids to do. It's a memory I'll have forever.


Jack moved back to Phoenix, AZ. which is where he was originally from. He went back in the middle of our senior year. We were devastated, we didn't want to be separated, but we had no choice. After I graduated from high school I flew to Phoenix and spent two weeks with Jack and his parents. What a great time we had;we went shooting, off road driving, just all kinds of things that 18 year old boys do. Jack's parents wanted to show me Phoenix, so we went sightseeing. About two years later I got a call from Jack's mom. He had passed away from leukemia. This was my first loss of a good friend, and it broke my heart. I couldn't afford to fly to Arizona for the funeral but I sent flowers. I sure do miss my friend Jack Graham. But he is not forgotten. RIP my friend, love ya always.


My next story won't end so sadly, I promise.