After we moved back to Florida and I got thoroughly reacquainted with Roddy Morris (he now calls himself Rod) I learned that he had been telling LRod stories for years. I had to disabuse him of my involvement in some of them, although I have to confess, I’m not unhappy with the notoriety, because some of the stories are really good.
For example, he tells of one coworker who got a brand new Harley-Davidson Electra-Glide and who proudly rode it work every day for a week, spending every break taking fellow controllers out for a tour of it. Several days later some creative character (the part Roddy ascribes to me) took a small, innocuous but unidentifiable part from a sewing machine and placed it on the pavement under the hog. When the prankee came out at the end of his shift he saw the part and panicked, thinking (as was intended) that it had fallen off his bike. He ended up calling the local dealer to come out and diagnose and repair the bike, which involved several days of anxiety, etc.
It’s a great story, but it wasn’t me. I wish it was, but I have to be fair…
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