I have been writing my memoirs and as I have delved into the past and spoken with others concerning past actions and deeds. That is all a piece of past delving, but I have uncovered an anomaly in memory of my past with me and with those of others who remember various actions involving me and others. This past they relate has similar underpinnings to my memory on some basics but their “favorite” recollections frequently differ from mine in details specifically. This has led me to confusion as to what the fuck they are talking about. Sometimes I assumed they just mis-remembered but other times their recollections simply are of things I know never happened. I have an excellent memory so that is not a part of it. Their memories were more of a completely different time frame and factual reality. I did operate a restaurant for several months, and during that time had a few late night parties involving food and fun, and those folks fondly remember those times because they were unique and crazy. My record and tape store (Crazy Corbs Cosmic Corner) was party oriented but I never had pin ball machines in the upper Bandon store. I did sell pot paraphernalia and Cocaine accessories for a short period. There was no Cocaine anywhere to be found, so I imported an ounce and filled the toys for it with it. I stored the Cocaine in a pile on a mirror in the main display case for the few days it was available. Highly illegal, the best place to “hide” it was in plain sight. So I did. I sold pot over the counter, to friends, when I first opened. That was fact, but never truly known at the time. That is what legends are made of. I was never caught or prosecuted for that. Had I been caught or prosecuted then it would have been infamy! When I was younger, and living in California I sold drugs for several years as a way to make a living. I frequently worked a job as well, but selling pot and LSD was how I earned money to support my friends and myself. I would buy ten kilos of pot and bag it up and selling the bags. Often the kilos cost $100 and yielded 34 $10 bags plus house smoke. Each thousand dollars brought three back. One thousand hits of LSD brought three thousand back. Some weeks five thousand came back from two going out and we all partied. Makes me wonder why I was always broke. The fact is I usually had a decent car, nothing fancy. I dressed nice suits I got from fences, or Salvation Army chic. I bought a lot of food, gas was not expensive. I did coke for a year, but made more than I used. I needed a keeper because while I made a lot of money I never had a lot of money. I sold a lot of drugs but also kept everyone high. I did not do it for the money nor the notoriety. I did it because I could. People trusted me and believed in me. I exploited that a few times but for the most part I dared to be a can do guy. If you wanted good drugs at decent prices I always could deliver. I did a few things I should not have, and people lost money. My bad. Yet no one ever got bad drugs. So, you wonder, where does the Urban Legend come in? When people remind me of a time we disgorged kilos from an old ford. I have never disgorged kilos from an old ford. He was not positive but seemed to remember us doing that. I have only disgorged kilos from a vehicle once, and actually had someone else do it. Then their neighbors steal it. I gave the names of the thieves to friends and magically they were returned immediately. That was 124 kilos. I did a load of fifty kilos for $40 each delivered. I sold them forty kilos for $50, making ten kilos. I ended up having to split with two people that set the deal up, and my take was four kilos. I was pissed but one of the four was Acapulco Gold, and that made it ok. Infamy? Why that is what happens when you get caught and convicted for a super act. That has never happened to me. Urban Legend? Yes, that is what many of my sorties have become, and they grow for as long as people survive remembering those stories. Maybe I should title my memoirs “The Making of an Urban Legend”. Weigh in on that in the comments. Happy Trails.