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It is my sincere desire to provide readers of this site with the best unbiased information available, and a forum where it can be discussed openly, as our Founders intended. But it is not easy nor inexpensive to do so, especially when those who wish to prevent us from making the truth known, attack us without mercy on all fronts on a daily basis. So each time you visit the site, I would ask that you consider the value that you receive and have received from The Burning Platform and the community of which you are a vital part. I can't do it all alone, and I need your help and support to keep it alive. Please consider contributing an amount commensurate to the value that you receive from this site and community, or even by becoming a sustaining supporter through periodic contributions. [Burning Platform LLC - PO Box 1520 Kulpsville, PA 19443] or Paypal
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My children played outside all day, climbed trees and played in the street. They were healthy and happy. That was over forty years ago.
THEN CAME THE INTERNET
BetaMax vcr wrecked drive in movie theaters.
I LOVE these ‘good ol days’… a flood of memories and a lot oh ‘O man, thats totally me/us’
Weirdest of all… survived, without govt protecting me every hour of the day… phew…
EDITED: Did NOT wear the above the navel paslie pants and shirts… always been a jeans and tshirt guy… still am and ever will be.
That was the rich kid.
Rich kid my ass pal, I had a paper route when I was 10 so I could afford a bike like this.
Mine was a “regular” Sting Ray with the deluxe springer front end.
Same here, and at that same age as well. Didn’t start drinking ’til I was 12 tho (not the hard stuff at least). But then I wasn’t really one to easily succumb to peer pressure, ya know.
Nice. I had one but without the front shock.
It was called a “Singray krate” $100 in 1968.
I so wish I still had mine. It was so cool.
Made by Schwinn.
If your dad was a dentist or a bookie, you rode a Schwinn bike. If your dad worked in a gas station like my old man did, you threw a stick into their spokes as they rode by.
Should have stolen another one while you were still young and spritely. Snooze ya lose, man.
I bought my son one of those types , no gears on it though but all chrome.
Who needs gears anyway when ya can’t even get the damn thing to go into reverse?
The Dodge Caravan was NEVER cool.
But it was awesome for picking up about 10 buddies to take to a field party.
The ’75 Blazer with the fully removable top (all the way to the windshield) was way better for that. You just had to hope the hooplehead driving didn’t get so drunk that he rolled the thing when it was full of party animals.
This is what we partied in…
SWEET
They had a name for those back then; Paddy Wagons.
It’s a matter of degree. They were marginally cooler than those gigantic LTD station wagons with the two-tone fake wood paneling. Just because they were new and a novelty.
But after the Terminator stole one of those station wagons in both the first and the second movies, they somehow became cool.
Was that the Country Squire?
Country Square
Hey – don’t insult my 1984 Ford Country Squire Station wagon with the fake wood siding. I loved that car. Hit the gas… the whole thing would hunker down and provide excellent audible feedback from the big 8cyl!. never mind it got nine miles to the gallon. I still miss it.
Truckster Wagon Queen (“Vacation”)
Way cooler.
Coolest.
The ’68 Sportwagon
Nomad anyone?
Can you imagine taking an air intake hood from a Gran Sport, and putting that, with a 454 GS engine in that wagon?
Mad Max Material.
The two ton behemoth would still be a dog.
Not necessarily, I had a 67 charger with a hemi that weighed over 2 tons and would still go over 175 all day long. ‘course it totally sucked in the corners. We didn’t call it drifting back then, we just called it taking a turn lol.
Mom had one in white, with the 455. Awesome vehicle.
So long as it had either a seat in back that flipped up and faced out the rear window or two that faced each other, it was a cool and functional wagon.
I had to take my driver’s test in a wagon every bit as large as that one. Passed it the first time.
I had to take my driver’s test in a wagon every bit as large as that one. Passed it the first time.
I took drivers ed classes in a monster like that. I passed the test, I even managed to parallel park the beast. Stick shift on the steering column. My dad taught me to drive, in a Volkswagen beetle, learned to shift a stick. Later learned to double clutch a farm truck and also how to shift sans clutch.
Learned the shift sans clutch trick from an old trucker who ran a Standard service station one rainy night back in high school when the clutch rod broke on my old 348 Chevy and I didn’t have a clue how to get it or me home. Used the same trick many years later with my old Ford pickup when my 8 yo daughter and I were going to family night at church to watch a movie and the clutch rod broke right where it was formed into a 90 degree bend. Some times it paid to listen to the older guys.
I had to go sans clutch with a VW bug in Kansas, winter, Air Force. When you stopped, turn it off, put it in 1st gear and when it was time to go, start and go.
Looks like the 70s Show Vista Cruiser.
With the VISTA ROOF WINDOWS. Now that was shittin’ in high cotton.
Rode in the back of that on dust choked gravel roads in Saskatchewan. Always came out caked in dust…
Damn right…I sometimes wish I had one of those old land yachts. They drove like a dream and I remember barreling down the highway in West Texas, hundred miles an hour, just gliding along. LTD, V-8, eight miles to the gallon….gallon gas 25 cents.
We used to have frequent gas wars and the lowest I ever saw gas was at 14.9; a few years later I was driving home from college once and got stuck paying 34.9 in a small town and thought I had been robbed-bought just enough to get back home. Pretty sure in those days most of our gas came from crude pumped in Texas and Oklahoma.
Loved my 1964 Ford Galaxy with leather seats.
Brought to us by Mitt Romney’s daddy.
Beat me to it.
It was always the mom mobile.
Dorky, ugly as sin, and useful.
Our family’s first mom-mobile was a ’51 Chrysler 300 (Dad was a Chrysler man in those days and had just taken delivery on a ’57 Plymouth Belvedere-the original lemon for sure). The Chrysler was roomy, looked like a tank, but would carry half an army.
That is an awesome Mom holding the ramp for her son to jump. I doubt there are any helicopter mom’s willing to do this today.
I’d jump her.
Stucky already did.
We were blessed. No two ways about it.
…
how long will the ‘ball-less’ snipes continue poindexter?
The good younger days. Time elapses & here come the Cole Younger days end. Saw Belle Starr was shotgunned in the back this day in history; another reddening of the OK terroir (& that she fooled around with CY for a time).
Cleo, via Shakespeare: “My salad days, When I was green in judgment, cold in blood To say as I said then!”
And of course, some I knew never made it past the salad course.
Ah, yes. The old Sans-A-Belt slacks.
Those were a real good look. Polyester and tight, so the dude’s junk could be spotted as bad as wearing a Speedo.
Sport a pair of those with a handlebar moustache, and one looked like a porn star before they get naked.
I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.
Rode many a mile in the back of Dad’s F250 with my sister. Mostly to hardware stores or Dipper Dan’s Ice Cream Shop in La Habra for a summer evening’s treat.
That pick-up could get stuck in sand faster than a tricycle.
Just wondering if that pic of the chairlift is the old one in Jasper, alta?? Anyone know??
According to the sign there, it’s from Jackson, WY, on June 28, 1965, taken at 936′ in the sky!
yep… the old original skidoo bombardier… Had those… My pappy later took on an Arctic Cat dealership, so we always had two snow machines. If we could start’m we could ride’m… that was the deal.
Looks a lot like the Jasper chair too…
https://www.skimarmot.com/mountain/marmots-story/
If anyone is interested…
Mom’s arm as a belt, but nothing holding Mom.
I get a little altitude sickness just looking at that photo.
They don’t make em like they used to.
Actually, for that young lady, that was one of the good COLD days…
The best way to treat cold exposure is to wrap the victim up naked with another person; I think she may require treatment.
I think we had that Craftsman lawnmower. I had a strong emotional reaction that I wanted to beat it to death with a sledge hammer. The grass catcher was some kind of torture device and it maneuvered like battleship. I love my Toro that I don’t need anymore.
The grass catcher could get so heavy, it would lift the front wheels off the ground and made your cut lower & Dad could always tell when you let it get too heavy.
You were there.
I liked it a whole lot better than Grandpa’s old push reel mower.
BTW – I am amazed they still sell the push reels
10 Pat, we’re all going to need those if the Greens have their way, like out in
Califor-nye-aye, where Gruesome Newsome banned all 2 cycle engines.
But, then again, maybe us old timers that recognize WTF that is will be long gone
by the time the NWO bans gas mowers, electric ones, and lithium ion powered ones.
Take away a man’s power tools, and you take away some of his dignity.
Worse than just banning 2-strokes. He banned ALL small gas engines. Including portable generators! WTF!
Better get one before it takes effect.
I built a 200W solar charging system just for my power tool batteries. Grid goes down, I should still be able to build stuff the easy way
Great backup plan for when gasoline is banned.
I remember Dad’s Reo push mower-even the orange and green logo on the wheels. It cut true and straight, as long as the blades were sharp. Even had the optional grass catcher basket on the back-rust proofed sheet metal on the bottom and heavy white canvas on the sides and back. But don’t ask me what I had for breakfast this morning.
I hated the grass catcher and having to stop to empty it. Seemed like it had to be emptied a million times when cutting a large yard. Still better than those old manual (non-motorized) grass cutters that were nothing but two wheels and a rolling cutting blade. The blades were never sharp enough and had to be sharpened way too often.
Who remembers “Jet Stix!”
I had a couple of pair in my skiing career.
Wore the boots we called waffle stompers back in the mid 70’s. I had always heard they could double as a ski boot.
Pick up truck story: early seventy something Chevy 6cyl, three on the tree, ski rope, truck inner tube, 6 inches of snow, side streets of small town WV.
Only hazard was one wheel drive slinging clumps of ice/snow WAY back.
And WIDE turns at speed.
Good times. BTDT 80s.
You have to be a boomer or near-boomer to remember those WONDERFUL things. Memory, ahhh, what a beautiful and useful thing to have.
It is the remembering of The-Way-Things-Were that gives this boomer sadness.
Sadness, because we remember that when we were kids we didn’t give in to fear. Oh, we knew fear! Hitching a ride to downtown Newark on the back of a bus …not IN the bus, but our feet precariously perched on the couple of inches on the back bumper, and all our fingers clawed into the tiny ledge on the back window. We pretty much knew that if we fell off when it got up to speed that we were generally good and fucked. But, we did that, and other crazy dangerous things, because of the other “f” word — FUN. Fear was there, but it never ruled over us. The only thing I truly feared was something putting my ye out — there were at least273 things that could put my y out, according to my mom.
OTOH, it is this very “remembering” which gives me hope. When I hope that this country still has the chance to return to some level of sanity it is based on my memories. That what once was can become again. Specifically, a return to freedom; freedom from an overly protective nanny state so full of shit when it comes to my saaaafety, freedom from fear generating parents and teacher, freedom to fuck up, freedom to break some bones, freedom from the tyranny of television (I was allowed1 hour a day), the freedom to just be a fucking kid enjoying my fucking life!! (Sorry for the potty language.)
That’s what is so sad about those pictures. This generation of kids (and even the previous one) will never get to experience the freedoms we did as kids.
What have we turned them into? Fraidy Cats!! Fear of a fucking harmless (to them) germ. Fear of breathing air. Fear of riding a bike without a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads, and a kevlar vest. Fear of riding in a car two blocks without being strapped in. Far of walking home alone. And on and on and on.
And when they become young adults, and an old fuck like me tells them that America is becoming more and more enslaved by our leaders, and that I long for freedom, they will look at me like I’m from Mars. “Hey old man! We are the greatest and free-est nation on earth!!”. It’s what their iPhone 48 tells them to say, between video games.
God help America if we don’t get our freedoms back soon …. while there are still some middle-aged and old farts around. Because it is fool’s gold to see Paradise Regained by relying on a generation who has no idea what real freedom is, nay thy don’t even have a memory of it.
Stucky- That should be a stand alone, well done sir. I agree that the younger crowd has never know a free life . Feeling free in your own mind is a very good feeling.
Yet another reason for them to erase history.
A bunch of bureaucratic Karens who, somehow, get rich while we get fucked.
That was a really great comment, Stucky. Welcome back. I ducked out of all of that by breaking all the rules in between doing the military. But, I never settled down and so now I just have to pass my wife’s safety inspection which isn’t always a bad thing. I will now see how many things I can destroy with a tractor and a chain saw.
There will be pictures!
Look at the number of States that still have laws against ‘free range children’. It was only about 4 or 5 years ago that Utah got rid of such laws … otherwise parents could get Up Shitts Creek for allowing their under-10 year old children go to the park by themselves or be out after dark …
Absolute lunacy … and, you’re right, Stucky — God Help US if we don’t get our Freedoms and Liberties back soon … but we’ll never get them back unless and until we get back our strength and our courage and get rid of our fear and paranoia …
A free man does not have to have the King’s written permission to shoot wild deer eating his own garden, or predators killing his livestock on his own land. A free man would be able to butcher his own healthy livestock and sell the meat. A free man would be able to sell his own nutritious fruits and vegetables to whoever wanted to buy them. A free man would not be fined $50,000 if he violated any of the above laws.
OK, I admit it. There are days now and then when all I really want is to go home.
I think ‘technology’ will eventually be the cause of the end of this civilization. The hairless monkey isn’t able to handle the various forms of power and control.
Maybe it has happened before.
“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”
– Albert Einstein
When we rode in the bed of our truck, we stood up and held on to the roof of the cab. In the car we would lay up on the flat deck between the back seat and rear window or stood up on the “hump” and held on to the back of the driver and passenger seats. Good times.
Remember in the back of a station wagon, you could put your ear to the carpet and hear the whine of the rear end gears?
I’ve never been that drunk in a station wagon. I’ll have to give it a try some time.
Born in ’47, we were raised with ‘Superman’ … and never has a generation of children suffered so many sprained and/or broken arms, lets, ankles, wrists, etc. from putting on a ‘cape’ (made of just about anything) and jumping from a tree or a roof or anything higher than they were tall.
During winters in OH, we’d wait for cars to stop at the signs or the red lights … then grab a hold of the bumper and go like hell — either on your feet or on a sled. You just had to be on the lookout for patches of bare pavement …
David was 2 years older than the rest of us … so we figured that he was smarter. David used to like to come over to our house and go in the garage and undo the lid on the gas tank of my old man’s 48 Chevy … and snort enough fumes to make his hair curl. Needless to say – the rest of us followed suit (we were 5 or 6 at the time — and, of course, back then the gasoline had lead in it). David later died from a rare type of brain cancer after living a few decades with all sorts of mental issues. One can only wonder where those came from.
When we were about 8, Ron’s older brother taught us how to make brass knuckles — and zip guns from pieces of automobile radio antennae … and ‘sewer wine’ made by assembling all of the ingredients into a big jar that was hung from the sewer grate.
I know a lot of us aren’t here today … but many of us still are … and the snowflakes and the hyper-neurotic types would have a fit to even think about all we did and survived.
Nietzsche was right: Whatever doesn’t kill me, only makes me stronger … and gives me lots of rich memories of people and places and things that went into a pretty good life in many respects.
Thanks one and all that I grew up with … a toast to every one of you …
Ciao …
You forgot sniffing the airplane glue.
The only time we were allowed in the house before dark was if we had to come and get Mom to take us for stitches.
If my parents knew a 1/10th of what we got up to out of their eyesight they would have never made it to 30.
Fun times.
I had dozens of stiches and several broken bones growing up.
Along with all my friends. It was never given a second thought.
My parents let me ride my bike from Denver to Aspen with my
buddy when we were 13. My east coast wife still can’t quite wrap her
mind around that. No helmets, cut off jeans and Jack Purcell tennis shoes
on a 35 lb. Schwinn continental for equipment. My buddy’s dad fly fished on the way up and checked on us every few hours.
I remember standing up in the front seat of my dads car when ever he drove us anywhere, hell that would land you in jail today…
I used to lay on the rear panel behind the back seat under the rear window. I could see SWAT being called on my parents today for that.
We went berserk with fireworks even when it wasn’t the fourth of July. Anyone else remember cherry bombs? Light one of those today and parents would be screaming, “Quick! Everybody in the bomb shelter!” We’d even take regular firecrackers apart, put all the powder into small glass jars with a fuse and detonate them. The neighborhood often sounded like the soundtrack from a WW2 movie. Lol.
Wrap up red sparklers with packing tape and one sticking out as the fuse?
Put M-80s to shame.
In high school we always talked about shooting a pop bottle rocket through the gasoline fumes from the 16 foot high pipes used to vent the underground tanks when the getting filled up by the tank wagon. Luckily, none of us were quite dumb enough to take it past the discussion stage. Not sure how large the ball of flames would reach out, but guessed the truck driver and the station attendants would have suffered greatly.
As an 8 year old I remember buying cherry bombs and M-80s at a fireworks stand just across the county line in a blue collar part of town. A few years later my buddy Barry-always the hell raiser-built a ‘pistol’ out of water pipe and a couple of fittings. He’d load it from the front with a large marble and put a cherry bomb in the back end, right above the ‘pistol grip’. He fired the thing once-but even with some old head phones on his ears still rang for a couple of days. Luckily the thing didn’t blow up on him.
Remember drive-in theaters and how your parents would be driving somewhere at night, and you’d see the movie playing on the screen from the road?
My cousin lived near a drive-in, and we’d go over, climb through a gap in the fence and sit and watch the movies.
Still tw0 drive-in’s left in my area. One is 20 miles away and the other forty miles away.
I remember the Exton drive in in Exton, Pa. , among others.
In high school we went to the drive in when we were lucky enough to get a girl to go with us, but don’t bother asking how the movie was.
On the car radio… I remember well the day I asked my dad how those buttons got set just right for our local stations… I was about seven or so then.
He assured me he had the Chevy dealer set them up for him with a special tool. Of course, he knew damn well how it really worked since he set those buttons himself. He just didn’t want a certain seven year old making new station selections.
Later when I found out the real method I was impressed yet another time by my dad’s ability to think on his feet and seamlessly BS me as a little kid as I remembered that day, then.
Reminds me of Calvin’s dad in the Calvin and Hobbes comic strip.
The rock station in our area was WHB/710 on your radio dial. Dad would shit his pants when our oldest brother would set his radio to WHB instead of WDAF.
My local ski hill still has a couple two seaters that looks just like the first pic. I send my 6 and 8 year old up together and I follow behind. No issues yet self preservation is a strong urge.
I remember riding on a motorcycle with my dad and two brothers. One brother in front of him, and two of us behind him. No helmets. Not dead.
Did the same thing with our daughters, though their mother never knew about it.
Lol! Across the street neighbor had a snowmobile and he pulled sleds around the neighborhood. We held on for dear life.