Stories
Dick Buek is an American hero, A skier of unquestionable talent and skill, This section seeks to exemplify his talent as a Skier and seeks to bring to the public all of the stories told to me by Dick (my godfather) and by my fathers friend, Hannes Scroll, These stories are hearsay, however, they are based in truth and I think Dick would want them known.
Dick once accepted a bet to ride down the "Old Donner Pass" road on a Bicycle with no brakes, not only did he immediately accept, His girlfriend at the time (not Jill) agreed to ride on the handlebars. Dick won the bet.
Dick received his draft notice into the Army during the Vietnam War like a lot of young people at the time. However, Dick decided that Vietnam was not a good place to ski. He, therefore, decided that his only option, after receiving his draft notice, was to fly to South America where he could ski most of the year. Unfortunately, he was detained in Bolivia (in the midst of a civil war) by the rebels and forced to fly bombing missions against the existing Govt.! Less than 2 weeks later, the American CIA had "re-acquired" Dick and his plane. Dick was subsequently returned to the US and named an ambassador for Skiing by the US Army! Dick died before his time and his exploits involving his South American experience, with the US Army, will be told when the documents become "unclassified". My Godfather was an amazing man and he continues to amaze!
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Famous quotes containing the word stories:
“No record ... can ... name the women of talent who were so submerged by child- bearing and its duties, and by “general housework,” that they had to leave their poems and stories all unwritten.”
—Anna Garlin Spencer (1851–1931)
“I am surprised at the way people seem to perceive me, and sometimes I read stories and hear things about me and I go “ugh.” I wouldn’t like her either. It’s so unlike what I think I am or what my friends think I am.”
—Hillary Rodham Clinton (b. 1947)
“Every one of my friends had a bad day somewhere in her history she wished she could forget but couldn’t. A very bad mother day changes you forever. Those were the hardest stories to tell. . . . “I could still see the red imprint of his little bum when I changed his diaper that night. I stared at my hand, as if they were alien parts of myself . . . as if they had betrayed me. From that day on, I never hit him again.””
—Mary Kay Blakely (20th century)