Stories
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Dave was not a Hell's bells type, he just liked a Harley. But I can't remember what he did for a living. Where he lived I had no idea nor anyone I hung-out with at the cafe. There was Brown and I know he lived some-wheres west toward Dolores Street. I took him fishing once over in Marin. I knew where the hole was so I caught all the fish and he didn't catch any. Was I rude ? I should have offered it to him but that's what I went there for, to catch fish and not cater to him.
He was say late twenties, tall, not heavy, not thin, easygoing. At the cafe, and I was there when someone told him about commercial fishing in Alaska. And do you know he actually did it. He went up there with a job on a fishing boat and was a hand for a three month summer and then he came back. He liked it and told us all about it. Actually what he was was a janitor for the public schools. He was also a lock smith.
So I locked my keys in my car on Mission just the other side of Army Street not quite to 26th. Why I parked there I have no idea but I went to the coffee house two blocks back. And Brown was there. So I told him my problem. He said he had locksmith tools at home and he went and got them. But he said if he got caught using them he would be in big problem, because his licence was from New York state or city I don't remember. Now keep watch he said for the cops, and he opened up that door in thirty seconds.
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