Reeeeeeet then folks, for those about to reminisce, I salute you. This thread is for all us old farts who served in the frontest of front lines in good ol' BAOR. If you knew of Dickie's bar, Dave's bar, Coupe 17, Rainbows, "Tofrek Kaserne bitte", the Korea Bell, Himmelstur and served in either 651, 652 or 661 anytime from about 1981 to 1993...this is the post for you. Well, let me kick things off. As a proud member of the Baby-Scaring Chosen Few of 652, one thing that I remember is taking the Squadron keys back up to the Ops room after a Friday happy hour in the bar. As any groundie will know, the distance from '52 up to the Regt was about 23 miles, so walking was out of the question quite frankly. Luckily, we had a perfectly good tractor called 'Armageddon' which given a drunk Air Trooper and a pan clear of cabs could be fired up to about 40mph. One evening I had the honour of taking the keys back after a skinful of Becks and decided to take the Yellow Taxi. Now unknown to me, the MT boys had replaced the inner tube earlier that day, but not in a good way. Frankly, they'd done the sort of job that a crack-riddled Chav at Kwik-Fit would've been ashamed of...the f**king thing had a massive lump in the right hand rear tyre and gave a two foot vertical bounce with every revolution. Did that stop me going as fast as I could down the pan? Did it f**k. I floored the beast and as I passed 651 I started to take on the same facial expressions as those astronauts in the G-simulators.... no pain, no gain...keep going, keep going.... nearly there.... It was at this point that things started to go wrong...remember the start of the Six Million Dollar Man when he crashes and they have to rebuild him? It was nothing like that, but a couple of things fell off the tractor and I had to stop to pick them up, at which point the duty driver came out in his Lanny to see if I was ok. The stench of beer and my apparent confusion lead him to the correct assumption that I was ar$eoled, so he parked the tractor and drove me back to block...thus saving me from a possible spot of bother from the duty NCO when having to explain why I'd left bits of tractor all the way up the pan.