3 kids in an ore car


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3 kids in an ore car

I grew up in a suburb which is now part of Denver Co. It was on the west side of Denver so we did not have to go too far to get to the foothills. This was over 60 years ago and before we were old enough to drive.

Kids being kids we were always fishing, hunting & riding bikes and doing anything we could to escape weeding and watering the garden or painting the house or whatever our parents could torture us with.

We did a lot of hitch-hiking to get to places further away or away from roads where we couldn't take our bikes.

Anyway one day Dick, Carl and myself ended up on what was called the 'hogsback' which is north of the then small town of Morrison and the Red Rocks Amphitheater. There was an old abandoned mine up above the highway and we were poking around investigating it when we got the bright idea of pushing the ore car back in the mine and riding it out.

We walked into the mine first and checked to see how far we should or could go with the ore car. Where there was a curve we could see that the ore car had scraped the supports so we knew not to have any fingers gripping that side.

We piled up a whole bunch of timbers on the tracks to stop the ore car from going over the edge and then we pushed that car back into the mine as far as we could see.

The three of us then jumped into that ore car and we were moving pretty darn fast when we exited that tunnel and hit that pile of timbers. It dumped the ore car on it's side and spilled the contents (us) out on the ground. It was a miracle that none of us got hurt.

All of a sudden we were a whole lot smarter and didn't even think of trying that again. That ore car probably would have ended up way down the hill had the pile of timbers not stopped us.

I recently Google Earthed that hogsback and I believe I can see the mine portal. Here's a Google Earth KMZ Placemark for anyone who's familiar with the area.

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Great story Leroy, thanks for sharing it.

Isn't it amazing you survived all your youthful adventures like that one without a helmet and elbow/knee pads. Now people dress their kids like stunt men just to go out and ride their bike in the driveway, I have 41 year old daughter that does that. Her and her husband gear up like that to ride their bikes, I told them they looked like dorks. Son-in-law still has his panties in a twist over that one and it's been about 3 years ago now, that's cool I never liked talking to him anyway.

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I couldn't agree with you more, how some of got to grow up and I think it was a privilege the way I got to grow up and the things you see now days.

I so can relate to the last two stories I will tell you couple and I still wonder how I made it through them and came out alive and not missing some appendages or parts.

I grew up in a small ranching town in northern New Mexico 300 was the population on a good night.

I was out in the Zuni mountains one day and found an old line shack and barn the shack was lock up but the barn wasn't so being a snoopy 13 year old I went in to see what was inside and low and behold I found a stash of 200 blasting caps and a roll of fuse, it was close to the 4th of July and I just found this year's fireworks and the added bonus was it didn't cost me anything. This kid just cut a fat hog in the ass so off the mountain I went cutting a piece of fuse 3 inches long and stuffing it in a cap and blowing the hell out of things. I had a box of caps in each back pocket as I went merrily on my way stopping now and then to blow the hell out of something .When I got back to town and my friends saw what I had they all wanted them so I started to sell them for 50 cents each. We blew up anything that move and all the time the people of the town thought we were playing with fire crackers. After all 200 caps were gone and not one finger missing or near miss I looking back it was just a miracle that that many caps got blown up in two weeks and we all came out un scathed. But it was one 4th of July I will never forget.

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I PM'd you

LeRoy

Hey Leroy, could you do the same for me as you did with Frosty regarding the KMZ placemark I grew up in a neighborhood just south of Denver and traveled to and from Morrison on many ocassions. A friend of mine at the time had a 40 acre family ranch not far from town.

Would be appreciated.

Gary

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Hey Leroy, could you do the same for me as you did with Frosty regarding the KMZ placemark I grew up in a neighborhood just south of Denver and traveled to and from Morrison on many ocassions. A friend of mine at the time had a 40 acre family ranch not far from town.

Would be appreciated.

Gary

I PM'd you also.

Small world. There's a lady here in Sheridan Montana whose family ranch was out there in what became Bear Valley. (South Sheridan Blvd I think? Or maybe South Wadsworth Blvd?)

I grew up in Westwood, Morrison Rd passed right thru it.

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Thanks! I got a good laugh out of that one. Oh to be a kid again with all the knowledge we have gathered over the years.

When I was a kid, across the street and up the hill was this enormous wooded area. Well that was me and my buddies personal domain. It was our playground.

Every tree had secret markings on it, and scraps of lumber that we had been given by local contractors building houses, out of their scrap piles. We would nail them to the trees so we could climb up in them. Every once in a while we would find an old Indian arrow head, or other small artifact.

There were trip lines and pits we had dug and covered with branches to trap would be trespassers. We buried treasure, and made maps. The coin of the realm was baseball cards and lead slugs. You see if you hiked up that hill and crossed 7th. Avenue, and then cut across the golf course and walked down this long winding dirt road into this valley you would arrive at the police firing range. When the police were not there we would dig the lead slugs out of the hill and but them in canvas bags that we got for free at the local bank.

We would then take the lead home, and you would have your mom save you old coffee cans and the old aluminum tins from Swanson TV dinners. You would melt the lead on the stove in those old coffee cans, then carefully skim off the slag on the top of the molten lead. Once the lead looked good and clean you would run oput to the garage, where the Swanson dinner tins awaited. There you would pour the molten lead into the large rectangular indentation where the fried chicken once was. Then the other two triangular areas where the corn and the mashed potatoes were. You would wait until the lead set up and then dump the ingots out on the garage floor. Then taking your dads pliars, you would drop them into another coffee can full of water to cool them down.

Now these ingots could be traded for baseball cards, or, we would all get together with our canvas bags full of lead ingots and ride 5 miles to the junk yard where they would pay us 15 cents a pound. Of course you hae to remember back then a hamburger at McDonalds was 15 cents, Fries were 10 cents and a soda was 10 cents. Miimum wage was $1.25. Lowest I ever paid for gas when I was 16 was .159 .

We would hit those woods at 8 am in the morning and never come home until it was getting dark. We would eat wild asparagus, and morel mushrooms, and berries. We would catch lizards. One day we caught over 200 of them. At the end of the day we let them go so we could catch them again.

In February we went back to Illinois and drove around looking at the places where we grew up. That woods is still there, it has not changed one bit. I bet there are still holes up there with the sun bleached bones of some interloper that got caught in one of our carefully constructed traps.

I guess when you get old, you are lucky to have your health and your memories, and your family. Nothing else really matters.

Doc

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