What does everyone do for their "real" job?
- Thread starter Gage Werke Composites
- Start date
This glorifies it nicely:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interagency_hotshot_crew
In reality we're just a bunch of assholes who get to play in the woods...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interagency_hotshot_crew
In reality we're just a bunch of assholes who get to play in the woods...
Independent
New Member
Avionics tech, sheetmetal fab, welder, and composites.
http://www.wacoaircraft.com/
http://www.wacoaircraft.com/
brianrmcgill
New Member
Operate a flexo folder gluer press that makes cardboard boxes!
Hichhkrjo
Been Around the Block
I've been everything from pool cleaner, to waiter, decorative artist, to barista. Right now I'm the manager of the frame shop in a Michaels Arts and Crafts. Being a manager, I get 40 hours a week guaranteed. It's not a *great* job, but considering a lot of the other stuff I've done in the past, it's actually a pretty good one. But it's not what I want to do, ultimately, so I'm heading back to school in the fall for illustration.
andycafe
Northern Suburbs, Melbourne Victoria, Australia
I'm a Senior Installation Tech for a Commercial Audio Visual Company (projectors,sceens,plasmas,lcd's,speakers,controllers,switching) I also spent years in the Car AV area (could be an auto electrician) can do most things I put my mind to................
legendary_rider
Jump in with both feet.
I own a hardcore 24 hour gym. Basically I go in for a couple hours and clean the place up, workout, hang out with the guys and then I play around with the bikes for the rest of the day. Before that I was in an "counter terrorism unit" for a nuclear facility. I was one of the first private citizens in Canada to be licensed to carry prohibited firearms and devices. Did that for 5 years then quite cause it was so F@#ing boring. Had its moments though I guess and taught me how to shoot a flea off a dogs ass.
BriMed1983
Been Around the Block
I work as a Industrial Millwright Mechanic for a composites manufacture. I take care of all the equipment. Perform preventive maintenance, and currently getting more involved in implementing robotics into our process. Spend my lunches on here reading and learning from all you great folks on here @DTT
Cheers
works website www.filamat.com
Cheers
works website www.filamat.com
Innamorata 750
Active Member
I am an aspiring writer, which is usually defined as "out of work bum." ;D
My current work-in-progress is about a guy named Roy Stevens: Roy Stevens thinks he has the world figured out. He has a nice little house, a nice Norton motorcycle, a nice Corvette, and a nice job teaching “Modern Poetry and the Hip Hop Culture” in a local high school. "Gangs," he says, "are just a group of kids trying to find a place where they fit in.” And then he witnesses a gang-hit...
It even has a nice motorcycle chase in it:
When it comes to burning off the effects of middle age and a stressful life, some men take up golf, others take on a mistress, and there are even those who do what they can to drown their fears and memories in alcohol. Roy bought a motorcycle. It wasn’t just any motorcycle though, it was a Norton.
The cover fell from the Norton like a silk negligee dropped from the body of a lover. Roy sucked in his breath, just a bit, like a child does when an unexpected but much-desired birthday present is unveiled. Slowly he wiped off any dust that might have made it past the cover using a folded towel he left on the seat for just such a purpose. The tank looked as though it had been dipped in pure elegance as Roy ran the rag over its silver curves. He needed this ride.
He suited up and pushed the bike out of the garage, pulling the door shut behind him. He switched the Norton’s key to the on position and the soft red glow of the oil pressure light told him the battery charger had done its job. A short press of the starter button and the bike burst into life, settling down to a lopey, offbeat idle. Roy climbed aboard, pulled in the clutch, and with a flick of his toe the transmission snicked into gear.
A little later in the same chapter:
Roy pinned the throttle and again the Norton shot forward. He leaned the bike hard and aimed it down the exit. With the sound of screeching tires, blaring horns, and cursing drivers he snapped a left onto Route 70 and accelerated hard shifting up through the gears as fast as he could.
Roy watched as the Impala exited the lot and flew up the left lane, oncoming traffic scattering to avoid running headlong into it. Just as they pulled up even with Roy, he shot up the right shoulder at full throttle, passing three or four cars. Roy snapped the bike back into the lane just past a minivan, narrowly avoiding a row of parked cars. The startled driver of the minivan swerved left, colliding with the Impala. Roy slammed the throttle full to the stop, then shifted into third.
The speedometer needle moved steadily toward triple digits and Roy up-shifted into fourth. Trees and houses melted into a steady blur as he flew down 321. Had the collision with the minivan been enough to cause his attackers to break off their pursuit?
“Shit, shit, shit” he shouted after a quick glance in the rear view mirror.
He tucked himself in to lessen the wind resistance and give himself more speed. With no more traffic ahead, the only other choice was to try to outrun them on the road. A sharp right hand turn came up and he downshifted furiously to scrub off speed. As he emerged from the turn he again pinned the throttle. The road came up at him in great leaps of speed as his eyes darted between the road ahead and the rear view mirrors.
The speedometer needle touched 110 mph. Roy backed off, down-shifting and braking hard for a tight left hander. He felt the limit of the tires. The bike drifted toward the right shoulder. Throttle pinned, Roy ran it back up to around 95. He slowed again for a right-hand curve. Just past the apex he caught a little loose gravel and felt the back of the bike slide toward the outside of the lane. Power still applied full, the tire caught the asphalt again launching Roy and the Norton down the road toward the back of a Chevy pickup. Roy cut left to pass the truck.
Four or five cars appeared in the oncoming lane, and the blurred image in Roy’s mirror confirmed that they arrived just in time to slow his pursuers down. He kept the throttle slammed to the stop. Past RT 58 and into the curves just past an antiques shop called The Olde Mill Store. Trees shrouded the road and the sudden lack of sun on his sweat drenched skin caused Roy to shiver.
Roy and his Norton burst back out from under the canopy into the sun. Halfway down a half-mile-long straight Roy saw the Impala slide through the last of the turns and pass the minivan. The Norton’s engine howled like a big cat and vibration coursed through his body.
When I'm not listening to the voices in my head (and writing down what they say), I volunteer teaching U.S. History at a Home School Tutoring Co-op, do all the usual stuff around the house that needs to be done, or piddle around in the garage on my KZ or my 442.
Shiny Side Up!
Bill
My current work-in-progress is about a guy named Roy Stevens: Roy Stevens thinks he has the world figured out. He has a nice little house, a nice Norton motorcycle, a nice Corvette, and a nice job teaching “Modern Poetry and the Hip Hop Culture” in a local high school. "Gangs," he says, "are just a group of kids trying to find a place where they fit in.” And then he witnesses a gang-hit...
It even has a nice motorcycle chase in it:
When it comes to burning off the effects of middle age and a stressful life, some men take up golf, others take on a mistress, and there are even those who do what they can to drown their fears and memories in alcohol. Roy bought a motorcycle. It wasn’t just any motorcycle though, it was a Norton.
The cover fell from the Norton like a silk negligee dropped from the body of a lover. Roy sucked in his breath, just a bit, like a child does when an unexpected but much-desired birthday present is unveiled. Slowly he wiped off any dust that might have made it past the cover using a folded towel he left on the seat for just such a purpose. The tank looked as though it had been dipped in pure elegance as Roy ran the rag over its silver curves. He needed this ride.
He suited up and pushed the bike out of the garage, pulling the door shut behind him. He switched the Norton’s key to the on position and the soft red glow of the oil pressure light told him the battery charger had done its job. A short press of the starter button and the bike burst into life, settling down to a lopey, offbeat idle. Roy climbed aboard, pulled in the clutch, and with a flick of his toe the transmission snicked into gear.
A little later in the same chapter:
Roy pinned the throttle and again the Norton shot forward. He leaned the bike hard and aimed it down the exit. With the sound of screeching tires, blaring horns, and cursing drivers he snapped a left onto Route 70 and accelerated hard shifting up through the gears as fast as he could.
Roy watched as the Impala exited the lot and flew up the left lane, oncoming traffic scattering to avoid running headlong into it. Just as they pulled up even with Roy, he shot up the right shoulder at full throttle, passing three or four cars. Roy snapped the bike back into the lane just past a minivan, narrowly avoiding a row of parked cars. The startled driver of the minivan swerved left, colliding with the Impala. Roy slammed the throttle full to the stop, then shifted into third.
The speedometer needle moved steadily toward triple digits and Roy up-shifted into fourth. Trees and houses melted into a steady blur as he flew down 321. Had the collision with the minivan been enough to cause his attackers to break off their pursuit?
“Shit, shit, shit” he shouted after a quick glance in the rear view mirror.
He tucked himself in to lessen the wind resistance and give himself more speed. With no more traffic ahead, the only other choice was to try to outrun them on the road. A sharp right hand turn came up and he downshifted furiously to scrub off speed. As he emerged from the turn he again pinned the throttle. The road came up at him in great leaps of speed as his eyes darted between the road ahead and the rear view mirrors.
The speedometer needle touched 110 mph. Roy backed off, down-shifting and braking hard for a tight left hander. He felt the limit of the tires. The bike drifted toward the right shoulder. Throttle pinned, Roy ran it back up to around 95. He slowed again for a right-hand curve. Just past the apex he caught a little loose gravel and felt the back of the bike slide toward the outside of the lane. Power still applied full, the tire caught the asphalt again launching Roy and the Norton down the road toward the back of a Chevy pickup. Roy cut left to pass the truck.
Four or five cars appeared in the oncoming lane, and the blurred image in Roy’s mirror confirmed that they arrived just in time to slow his pursuers down. He kept the throttle slammed to the stop. Past RT 58 and into the curves just past an antiques shop called The Olde Mill Store. Trees shrouded the road and the sudden lack of sun on his sweat drenched skin caused Roy to shiver.
Roy and his Norton burst back out from under the canopy into the sun. Halfway down a half-mile-long straight Roy saw the Impala slide through the last of the turns and pass the minivan. The Norton’s engine howled like a big cat and vibration coursed through his body.
When I'm not listening to the voices in my head (and writing down what they say), I volunteer teaching U.S. History at a Home School Tutoring Co-op, do all the usual stuff around the house that needs to be done, or piddle around in the garage on my KZ or my 442.
Shiny Side Up!
Bill
MotorbikeBruno
Over 1,000 Posts
I make custom cables, medical, non-medical, hell even USB cables now. Shameless plug if your company uses cables....from DB9's (like computer cables) to crazy ish, we do it. www.tensacc.com
Other than that, I clean carburetors on the side to help people out...but the cable company pays the bills for now! :-X
Other than that, I clean carburetors on the side to help people out...but the cable company pays the bills for now! :-X
Fox
I've still got those patches...
Innamorata 750 said:
I'm an English major in school right now. What you wrote isn't bad, good attention to some interesting details. Could use some revision though. PM me and I may be able to help you out.
Ringo said:
"high physical fitness standards, and ability to undertake difficult, dangerous, and stressful assignments" -Wiki
OH! Does that mean you have big muscles?!!!
But seriously. I came real close to signing up on a crew out in Arizona this summer. It's a good story how it almost happen. Maybe I'll share it somewhere...
Fox
I've still got those patches...
Ringo said:
We're in the same boat then! I've got to REALLY try to gain weight. Sucks. (Bet some guys are gonna hate me for that one)
Alright, I'll post it up in the "lounge" and post the link/PM you. Might end up being tomorrow. I think it'll turn out to be a longer story than I'm expecting.
