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might do some traveling but except for a trip to the Grand Canyon they really hadn't been anywhere. Now Dick had been everywhere and he was tired of it. He'd wanted to start up his own trucking operation but the wife needed a transplant and they weren't fully covered so he went on running the long hauls and put aside as much as he could. One of his neighbors in the park had had a similar problem and his wife had died. It wasn't something he wanted to think about.
     Harry had lived in Portland all his life and aside from a few trips to Las Vegas and L.A. had never been out of the state. He'd married his high school sweetheart after missing out on a football scholarship and they'd had the four boys and lived in a house full of hunting trophies. Harry's father had been a hunter and a lumberjack too and was always telling him how the country had begun to change just about when Harry was born and those Kennedys got in the White House and brought the hippies

and pornography to Washington. You could get the pornography on TV now and sometimes Harry sat in the den late at night with a bottle of beer just for the extra hot look they gave you in certain movies, the young breasts and the big nipples and the woman wide open, and then woke up his wife and got between her legs before she knew what was happening. Once he'd caught one of his sons with a girl in the house and threw the girl out and beat the living daylights out of the boy calling him a hippie scumbag. That had straightened him out. His wife didn't like him hitting the boys, or hitting her for that matter, but as soon as everyone knew his place there wasn't any need for hitting. Harry was out of work for long stretches of time and had tried professional wrestling and local lumberjacking competitions for a while. He'd also worked as a tourist guide and dreamed of running a tourist camp out in the wilderness for tenderfoots who wanted to impress their women. He could show them a trick or two.