It's sobering for a classmate and friend to pass. I remember David from the 3rd grade on into adulthood. David was always the class clown, and was the boldest of any of us.
He used to come out to play at our house near Stokes Chapel. Every time I saw his mothers Volkswagen Beetle puttering down the road, I knew he'd come up with some activity that teetered on the edge between good sense and "What were you thinking?"
In about 1966 (when we were 11) we had a party for my birthday, and everyone slept over- with no adult supervision. We ran amok all night long- except David, who was deathly ill all night. We should have called his mother, but didn't for some reason.
David came up with an old Harley when we were kids. He'd work on it a while, and then we'd push it all over town trying to get it to start. We even pushed it up bulldog hill, which was the only hill in the area. It gained enough speed on the way down the hill it actually started an ran- for about 5 feet. As far as I can remember that's the only time it ran. David didn't give up, though. He even put a Moped carb on it, which didn't work either.
We had a seance in his shop once. All that happened was that we became terrified and then endured ridicule by the older boys.
In the 70's I was stationed in Georgia. David rode his BMW motorcycle down to visit- in the middle of winter. I'll never forget his arrival. I opened the door to find him red faced and wrapped in newspapers to insulate him from the bitter cold. He looked like a homeless mummy.
I went to visit David several years ago. I asked him whatever happened to his Dad. He said that he was in the shop, so we went to see him. David brought out a can of ashes. Not what I expected.
I last saw David in 2008. He came to visit and took us to lunch. After he left I found a gold coin on the coffee table. I suppose it was a gift. I called him but he denied any knowledge of it.
David, you will be missed.
