I feel I need to do a little more introductory work before plunging into the full mania of the story I think I'll call "The Life of a Golf Course Tractor Operator Is Always Intense." But I'll keep it pretty short. No point getting into "I was born in a log cabin ..." territory.
Anyway, I already went into the contrasts between my present self -- an overfed, scraggly-bearded, reclining gnome -- and my 1986 self -- a Department of Defense Recreational Services Tractor Operator at the Great Lakes Naval Training Center golf course.
So now I want to go, briefly, into the contrasts between my 1986 self ... and my 1985 self. (Ironically, there are few contrasts between my 1985 self and my 2006 self, except that I'm much fatter, drink a lot, and am slightly more successful at growing facial hair.)
First of all, in 1985, I weighed about four troy ounces. OK, about 115 lbs. I was your quintessential ectomorphic nerdwad. I liked computers, Doctor Who, and The Who. Posting this photo should prove once and for all that I have no shame (or judgment) -- this is me in March 1985 at my high school in Lake Forest (I went to school in Gurnee, but a crazy student burned it down in December 1984 one night, so they sent us to an empty campus in Lake Forest for my last semester), accepting an award at the school computer fair for a game my friend Payman and I programmed (well, he programmed it ... I mostly just made up the story, puzzles, and a lot of jokes).
Yeah, this is me, Stronger Than Dirt Pete Moss, at age 17:
OK. Flash forward to October 1986. By the waning weeks of one season cutting grass at the Great Lakes NTC golf course, I had become this:
I intend this story to be the story of that transformation.
NEXT TIME: I tell Bugs Bunny, "Go fuck yourself, I quit," and The Stickler sets me up with a new job in swabby-land.
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