I really hate to talk about myself so I'll keep this very short.
I've been retired for a couple of years now but I worked in manufacturing and structural engineering and was mostly a professional computer bum.
My father was a radar man and computer programmer in the Air Force. He taught me about mechanics and electronics. I used to fix broken TVs and radios I picked up off street corners when I was a kid.
I had three working televisions by the time I was 14, and a monophonic record player with 6 mismatched speakers mounted into a fancy maple 1950s television cabinet I had rescued.
I built my first primitive hardwired computer in 1968. It had Flashlight batteries and an alarm clock motor you had to wind up by hand.
I was building engines at the Quality Engine Exchange and fixing cars and working as an industrial mechanic at Pepperidge Farms when I went to college. Everyone said that I should study engineering. I was accepted to attend General Motors Institute but I went to Utah State instead.
I was a year and a half ahead of my class in mechanical engineering school when I dropped out to take a job writing code.
I spent a lot of time in the structural and architectural engineering business, doing mostly public schools, churches and public buildings, but my very first job involved prefabricated walls and Factory built roof trusses for tract houses, one of which I live in today.
I specified parts and built computer systems and networks and taught engineers and professional people to operate and program and repair computers.
I used computers to solve production, manufacturing, and Engineering problems, and to produce parts on numerical control machinery & in semi automated production lines.
I programmed machines that burn, cut, welded, bent, stretched, punched, formed, forged and finished things.
I am completely retired now except that I sometimes volunteer to teach Marksmanship at the local rifle range. I repair old guns, and make parts for antique guns from scratch.
See? . . . I told you I hate to talk about myself.
