Reading was a part of growing up for me. This included weekly trips to the library, where my mom would pick out books to read to us, and when we got older, we would pick out books for us to read on our own. Somewhere around age eleven, much to my mom’s chagrin, I decided to read my way through the entire science fiction section, starting from the letter A. The limit on checking out books was 6, and I would always take the maximum home. Over the next few years I made a big dent in the alphabet.
When the Star Trek TV series first came out, I just had to see it. Unfortunately, it didn’t come on until 9 p.m., which was past my bedtime. In the summers though, for reruns, I was allowed to stay up late to watch it. After two seasons it was gone from TV, but not out of my memory.
Right out of high school I joined the Navy. My family didn’t have the money to just send me to college, and being neither a superb jock nor an academic genius, colleges were not beating a path to my door with scholarships. I chose the Navy over the other branches of the service for some very compelling reasons: my dad was on a destroyer during the Korean War, and most importantly, sailors got to wear those cool bell-bottomed uniforms. Or just maybe, it was because of all the nautical-type references in Star Trek.
My plan was after seeing the world, I would get out of the Navy and go to college using the GI Bill. Not because I had a specific career path in mind that required a degree, but because I wanted to be able to put one of those college stickers that read “So-and-so University” in the back window of my car.
True to my dream, after getting out of the service, I started my higher education at a local community college. My intentions were to start there and work my way up to a real university. In the first semester, I took Drafting 101, a requirement for anyone working towards an engineering degree. The thought being, I guess, is that if you could create an engineering drawing, you could understand one.
After only a couple of weeks of this course, I realized that I had found out what I wanted to be when I grew up: a draftsman, not an engineer. I graduated in two years with an associate’s degree in Engineering Graphics Technology. Delgado Community College just didn’t have the same impact as Clemson or Georgia Tech, so I never bought the window sticker.
Even before I got my Miata, while waiting those 108 days, I decided to buy my first accessory, the college sticker. Now I couldn’t just go buy one that said, say, Penn State or Notre Dame, never having attended either place, not even through a correspondence course. There was just one school’s sticker that my conscience would let me place on my car. An institute of higher learning that was to be built in San Francisco a couple of centuries down the road. The place that all future starship officers, James T. Kirk included, would attend: Starfleet Academy.
Being one of the first few Miatas in Aiken meant a lot more attention than I had bargained for. Sidelong glances at stoplights, stares from people at the next gas pump, downright eerie. Folks were always asking what kind of car it was, how much it was, how fast it would go, what kind of gas mileage it got, etc. I usually took it all in stride. One Sunday I had to go to the store for something, whatever. This was a chilly day, so the top was up. After parking the car and starting towards Food Lion, a young man comes running up to me all excited and asks, “Where did you get it?!?” I told him that I got it at Rader in Augusta. When I started to explain about the deposit and the three-month wait, he got a real puzzled look on his face.
That’s when he said, “No, not the car, the Starfleet Academy sticker.”
When I wanted to get this ready for publication in the Mt. Hood Miata Club’s newsletter, I thought it might be nice to tighten it up a bit. I ran it through ChatGPT, and this is what it gave me after a couple of recommendations on my part. It isn’t the way I write; I’m long-winded and rambling, so it isn’t me, but it is still good.
College wasn’t in the budget after high school, so I joined the Navy. My dad had served on a destroyer in Korea, and, honestly, I loved those bell-bottom uniforms. Maybe it was the Star Trek influence too—ships, stars, adventure.
After the Navy, I used the GI Bill and enrolled at community college. The plan was simple: start small, transfer big, and earn one of those glossy university stickers for the back of my car.
Drafting 101 changed everything. Halfway through the semester I knew—I wasn’t cut out to be an engineer. I wanted to be a draftsman. Two years later, I had my associate degree. A good degree, sure, but “Delgado Community College” didn’t exactly scream prestige. No sticker for me.
Years later, while waiting the 108 days for my new Miata, I gave in. I was finally getting a sticker. But not Penn State. Not Notre Dame. The only school that made sense was one that hadn’t even been built yet. The place where James T. Kirk himself trained: Starfleet Academy.
Driving one of the first Miatas in Aiken, South Carolina, turned me into an accidental celebrity. At stoplights, people stared. At gas stations, strangers peppered me with questions: “What kind of car is that?” “How fast does it go?” “What’s the gas mileage?” It was flattering… and a little eerie.
One chilly Sunday, I pulled into the Food Lion parking lot with the top up. As I walked toward the store, a young guy came running up, out of breath and excited.
“Where did you get it?!” he blurted out.
I grinned, ready with my well-practiced Mazda story. Augusta, deposit, three-month wait. But as I talked, his face twisted in confusion.
Finally, he cut me off.
“Not the car,” he said. “The Starfleet Academy sticker.”