What was the moment you realized you needed to move away from your parents?
Bengt Lindvall, Retired Engineer and sales guy. Worked in many countries.
I had turned 20, had done my mandatory two years in the army, joined the merchant marine and just come home from sailing around the globe. (True.)
My sister was crazy as a coon and my mother protected her every step.
One day I bought a cheap, but large, suitcase that exactly fit the trunk of my somewhat aging car. I stuffed the better part of what I could think I would need for the next few months inside.
Goliath 1956. 2 cyl, water-cooled, fuel injection. Built for the Autobahn, unlimited top speed >140 km/h. No usable brakes.
At bedtime, I said:
“Goodbye, mother. I leave tomorrow.”
She was stunned but said nothing.
The next morning I took off at the first light of the day, around 4 am in August in Southern Sweden.
My car, as I mentioned, wasn’t the greatest. Among other age-related faults, it had a leaky fuel tank that could only be filled halfway.
I drove north, about 350 km, until the dial on the fuel gauge solidly rested on the red zone. Time to refill.
I stopped in Linköping, south of Stockholm, parked the car in a free spot and visited the state employment agency.
I got three yellow slips with suggestions. If I didn’t take any of those three jobs they would not offer any more, a serious threat.
That night, I checked in at a youth hostel, dined on tea and hard bread, and slept on a thin mattress, no covering other than my coat.
I had enough money for 8 litres (not 10) of gas the next morning, but not for breakfast.
- Job one. In a foundry, dark but with fires shooting up here and there, like hades.
NO. - Job two. Saab Airplane factory. DEEP inside a mountain. Perhaps behind atom-bomb proof doors?
NO, too claustrophobic. No sun. - Job three. Drive a dump truck at a road construction site.
WOW, I like this. In the open.
I still had my military heavy vehicle licence and was told to go get my ten-tonner at the shop. The brakes had been fixed.
“It has no muffler so don’t push on the accelerator if you see a police officer.”
The missing muffler became the least of my problems. The brakes had not been fixed. They only worked as long as you had no load.
On my first run, probably with double the rated load, the brakes did NOTHING, as I came down the hill toward a sharp left turn over a narrow bridge.
I made it and continued to the tipping point. There, I backed up over a deep precipe, pulled the parking brake and stood on the brake pedal with both feet as the carrier rose and the load rumbled off.
The truck jumped up and down, moved backward and the last of the double rear axles was suspended in mid-air.
I very carefully released the parking brake to drive forward, out of that situation.
I finished that first day, driving very slowly.
A few days later I got a call that I was accepted at university.
I had enough money, from my short dump-truck driving career to eat until my first student loan check showed up.
I had moved out, got a job, and started on my engineering education, all in one week.
If you care to read the book about this, and more adventures, buy my book.
Here is a sampling:
