F I N E   H Y D R O C A L   C A S T I N G S   B Y   C.   C.   C R O W    
  P.   O.   B O X   1 4 2 7         M U K I L T E O,     W A     9 8 2 7 5     U S A    

NON-FICTION FICTION

Postcard of hollowed out log bear cage on RR flat car.

FICTION TRISTED FURTHER BY THE TRUTH


   A Brief History of My Writing

    I could barely read when I was a kid. I was repeatedly embarrassed by teachers insisting that I read out loud to the class just to prove this fact. I think I was borderline dyslexic. I just couldn't figure out these complex little letter patterns and put them together with the sounds and thoughts. Even simple stuff like seeing Dick run, Jane with a ball. Did they have a dog? It was much too complex for a little kid who was perfectly happy playing out back in the dirt. There were too many rules and just as soon as you learned one they were explaining that there were exceptions to the rules and you were wrong again. I didn't have a chance. Hey, I was just a little kid. Don't bother me with your problems. The other kids would laugh and pick on me, well, yeah, because I was stupid and couldn't read out loud. So I gazed outside the window and lost myself in drawing. They weren't happy about that either.

Somehow I managed to learn how to read and even spell, though I still very much rely upon spell checkers, which, by the way, the editor I am typing this on doesn't have!! But somehow I went from barely being able to read to not only writing, but editing. Would you call it semi-professionally? I volunteered to edit (me? an editor?) the Northern Pacific Railway's Historical Association's quarterly publication The Mainstreeter. And as a technical writer of my modeling articles, instructions for my kits, my catalog, my advertisements. And these crazy short stories.

I think my writing sort of started in high school when Mr. Rubble, our government class instructor. Besides teaching us to question authority, he had us all keep a daily journal. He told us we could write anything, he wasn't going to read them. Only my parents hadn't agreed to those terms and they freaked out when they read some of the things I had written about then President Nixon. You can't write those things! We could talk about them all the time but it wasn't to be written down. Freedom of speech only goes so far.

When Sue, my 10th grade girlfriend, dumped me I wrote letters to her. Actually, I wrote volumes to her in an art book journal, full of drawings and hopelessly love sick messages seeking her back. She would speak her reply and return the book, and I would write another foolish chapter. I tried to employ logic. Of course it didn't work. Poor fool. But I think she was entertained.

So I tried art. Pam got a wonderful set of pin and ink watercolors. Nope, that didn't work. Amie got one. Still no good.

Writing has never worked with any of the women I have known. It is a useless art. At least practiced the way I do. Apparently my drawings are equally as worthless.

I know, I know, I should get a real job.

In 1983 I took my first long motorcycle tour. Actually, I had taken two shorter ones the year before but I had not kept a daily journal of them. I began to do so with the 83 trip, dubbed The Stray Cat Tour, picking up on the name of popular song at the time. The entries in that first trip were rather rudimentary but they developed over the years not only to record our daily activities, meals, and trivia but also to include some of my personal observations and feelings. Some of the journeys are very appealing, perhaps even exciting. Some are full of romance and adventure. Others are just plain funny.

So, what should I do with them? Write a novel? Post them on the Internet? Sure, why not? At least a taste of them. Who knows, maybe someday I'll publish them. That is if enough people like them. I've been told they are good. But I don't know. We'll see.

At any rate, listed below are a few of my odd tales and strange stories. Some are fiction, some are non, I'm not entirely sure which is which. I tend to be semi-dyslexic that way too. Does it matter?




C C C 's ODD TALES
and STRANGE STORIES

    Odd History    
    How Do You Teach...    
    How Much is That Motorcycle?    
    A Month, A Week and A Few Days    
    A Fish Story    
    Nailed in Montuna    
    Havasu    
    12 Hearts    
    Best Rides    
    Bad Roads    
    Who's In Charge Here?    
    The First Time    
    The Last Time    
    The Fury Cat Story    





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  C. C. CROW     P. O. BOX 1427      MUKILTEO, WA   98275   USA