I was chatting with Wallace Herbert earlier today. He reminded me of something that happened in the wild crazy days, must have been in 1970 or early 71.

I had a new Chevrolet Pickup. I had pulled in at the Truck Stop out in Tin City out north of Marble to fill it up with some of that $.35 a gallon gas.

That had become the late night hangout by that time with a bunch of guys standing around outside. Probably 8 or 10 of us.

One of the fellows was a Marble Falls tuff guy that was best known for beer joint fighting and always coming out on top. He had a great technique. He made sure he got the first punch in, making it count. Then didn’t let up until there was no doubt who the victor was.

Wallace and this renowned tuff guy were standing up near the drivers door of my pickup. I was at the back, leaning across the tailgate. I was skinny, but had attained most of my 6 feet of height at that point. I was 18 or 19 years old. The other fellow was 4 or 5 years older, and stoutly built.

About that time I heard him say something very disparaging to me, on the line of “don’t be listening to what Wallace and I talking about, you little ………..”

It embarrassed me to be talked to that way, with so many standing around hearing it.

I stepped up on the back bumper and cocked my left arm back and flew all the way from the right rear corner of that pickup and my fist contacted his head and the fight was on. I had put the move on him that so many had seen him use before.

The whole thing didn’t last but a few seconds. Mr. Tuff Guy headed for his pickup and left.

I’m not sure what got into me that night but I never regretted it.

The other fellow and I had a long and friendly relationship after that until the he died many years later.

I didn’t mind Wallace calling me Buzz Saw Lewis.