In the spring of 1988 while still in Germany, I resigned from the Army after five years of service. While I had actually enjoyed my experience in the Army, and it had given me everything I had wanted (flying medevac Blackhawks in Germany), I knew the relative autonomy and M*A*S*H*-like atmosphere of an overseas medevac unit wasn’t the real Army. I also saw my fellow warrant officers—many senior officers and Vietnam vets—having to live in muddy tents, clean filthy potbelly stoves after a field exercise, and doing a lot of things that I figured someone who had their seniority and “paid their dues” wouldn’t have to do anymore. I really didn’t want to be doing those things for the next 20 years.
I had also visited a few stateside Army bases and realized that the “real” Army and I would not get along. Way too much bullshit, way too much unnecessary misery, way too much stupidity. When my tour was nearing completion, I had called my assignments officer at the Pentagon to request attending the formal medevac pilot school after my Germany assignment so I could remain flying medevac at my next duty station. Instead, he replied rather snarkily that, “No, you are going to do a tour at Fort Bragg or Fort Campbell, then you’re going to Korea for an overseas tour.” Hmmm. Actually, he was wrong on both counts. Instead, I sent him my resignation letter.
For awhile I had been pursuing a switch to the Air Force. From my interactions with the Air Force, they seemed to have a lot more money and treated their people much better. Now, the Air Force at the time didn’t take direct transfers, but I could get out of the Army, join Air Force ROTC, finish my degree, get a commission, and apply to flight school. But, where to do this?
A school that was well-known in the aviation industry, Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University (ERAU) in Daytona Beach, FL, had a good reputation and long-standing relationship with the U.S. military, having trained military pilots during wartime to supplement the military flight schools. In fact, it was granted the most Air Force Flight School slots for its graduates of any school in the country save the Air Force Academy itself. So, I decided to enroll there. I was young enough to complete the last two years of my degree and ROTC, and still make the 26-years-old age deadline for entry into Air Force flight school. I felt if I were able to get to flight school I would do well considering I was already an experienced military pilot, and thus would likely get my pick of aircraft after flight school. Which, of course, would be a flighter jet.
These plans all eventually fell apart for a few different reasons, but I did complete a semester of school and ROTC at ERAU, which is why I found myself in Daytona Beach in the spring of 1988.
Knowing that I would be living in Daytona Beach for a couple of years (where you could actually still drive on the beach), and not wanting to bring my Porsche back to the States with me (because I knew I would lose my license from driving too fast), I decided to sell the Porsche in Germany and buy a Suzuki Samurai–sight unseen–from a dealer in the States so that it would be waiting for me when I returned stateside.
Part of my vision of my upcoming party life in Daytona Beach included having a really good stereo system in the Samurai—something so powerful that I could hear it while speeding down the highway with the top down. So, shortly after purchasing the Samurai, I took it to a stereo store, dropped $3K, and had a 200 watt system installed. It come with multiple theft-prevention devices, one of which was a quick-release, removable stereo control head and a custom-sized strong box for it under the driver’s seat. Since this was a convertable, the idea was that with the push of a button, the stereo control panel would pop out and could then be placed in the strong box and locked up, preventing a thief from walking away with it. This sounded great in theory, but in practice, when running errands, making multiple quick stops, it was a total pain in the butt, and after a couple of months, I just didn’t bother with it anymore.
One Saturday afternoon, with nothing else to do, I decided to head over to the Volusia Mall out on International Speedway Boulevard to see a matinee. After the movie, I walked back out to the Samurai, opened the door, and was confused to see two screwdrivers and the volume control knob from the stereo control head sitting on the driver’s seat. It took me a second to realized that I must have interrupted a thief in the middle of trying to remove the control head, and he had fled, leaving his tools behind!
The fool evidently didn’t realize that all he had to do was push the button so indicated on the control head and it would have popped out into his hands. He had probably removed the control knobs because on a traditional unit the nuts which hold it in place are under the control knobs. Both had been removed, but only the volume knob was on the seat. He must have taken the other one with him. Ah, well, it could have been worse. I was out a control knob, but richer by two screwdrivers! I pushed the volume knob back in place on the control head, started the Samurai, and headed out of the parking lot. As I got to the mall exit onto the 6-lane, 55-mph International Speedway Boulevard, there was one car in front of me stopped at the red light.
This light was notoriously long since International Speedway was such a busy street, so I had time to look around. I noticed that the car in front of me was occupied by an elderly couple. I noticed the cars racing by on International Speedway, and then my thoughts went back to the attempted theft, and my eyes went back to the stereo control head. It bothered me that one of the knobs was now missing, and I wondered if I’d be able to find a replacement. Right then something caught my eye on the floor in front of the right passenger seat. It was the missing knob! The thief must have dropped it! Hallaluiah!
Since the light hadn’t yet turned green and the traffic on International was still speeding by, I reckoned I had time to grab the knob and pop it back on. Being careful to keep my foot on the brake, I learned across the car, and reached for the knob. It was just out of my reach, so I leaned very hard, which caused my shoulder to press against the horn button on the steering wheel, blaring my horn. Since I was so close to the knob, I ignored the horn for a second or two while I reached and reached…and got it!
I sat back upright feeling triumphant, when I realized to my horror that the car in front of me with the two elderly occupants, had charged forward right out into International Speedway Boulevard—but the light was still red! They must not have been paying attention, heard my blaring horn right behind them, thought they had been caught asleep at a green light, and so just pulled out!
With a sudden cacophony of creeching tires, skidding cars, and multiple car horns blaring, they bravely charged across three lanes of high-speed traffic and somehow made it to the median without killing themselves or anyone else, or even causing a collision. Holy crap!
Of course, had they gotten killed, I felt I had a good defense, being able to blame the entire thing ultimately on the failed stereo thief.