Culvert Mozart Lane - chapter 1 - Sex Stories

Culvert Mozart Lane - chapter 1

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Notes from the Author -

At least 98 percent of this is as true as I can make it, which I consider much closer to “True” than just “Based on a true story.”

“Based on a true story” might make Bubba Jones the chubby middle-aged bus driver into Bubba Jones the chick magnet and super spy.

The few things I changed or filled in leave the characters, situations, and background intact; and only smooth out the reading experience. Does it really matter today which of two friends owned a small boat in 1948? Or what they ate for lunch on a frozen lake that winter? Or the exact words one used when he asked his friend to impregnate his wife?

I did need to add 3 to the ages of “Nora” and “Janelle”, due to current legal restrictions and the rules on certain websites.

The people in this story are typical everyday country folks, but some did quite extraordinary things, good and bad. The perpetrators of all the crimes described here expired years ago. All significant events are written just as "Bruce" told them, according to his memories. He said there were no "fancy metric degrees" at the time, which is incorrect, but I typed it the way he said it.

“Brenden” is a friend of mine with little time and even less inclination to write. He only gave me the recordings I transcribed this from after I swore to change all the names. I also agreed to say this happened a few dozen miles from Lake Superior, instead of naming the town. The dirt and gravel lane in the story’s title was ...

... replaced by a highway with a number recently, so I’m finally comfortable making this public.

Thanks again, “Brenden”!

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Culvert Mozart Lane - chapter 1

I’m a 91-year-old man in a nursing home, sitting on what will most likely be my deathbed. My great-grandson Brenden is doing well in college, training to be an Information Systems Architect, whatever that is. He gave me a flip cell phone and separate voice recorder, and showed me how to use them on his last visit. The month before he had offered me a fancy lap computer instead, but those things are much more complicated than I need. I’m recording this so he and his descendants can know the real history of our family.

To most people these days I’m just a retired farmer, but there’s a lot more to it. Five events stick in my memory most firmly; the murders of my best friend Jake, my first wife Elaine, and my second wife Nora; my granddaughter Janelle’s 18th birthday, and the day Janelle gave birth to our son. I’ll describe and explain everything when I get to it, but let me start at the beginning…

When I was a boy, my family lived at the edge of a small farming town. Automobiles weren’t a rarity with a third of the families in the area owning one but the rest still depended on real horsepower, from real horses. Besides my schoolwork, I helped in my father’s workshop on Saturdays and a couple hours after school during the week. I learned to shape orange-hot iron and steel with a hammer and anvil, and weld using ...