I started going to work with my Dad when I was about 9. I would ride with the catskinner and run to set chokers, and just ride along. I tried Coppenhagen about that time too. LOL When I was 22-23 I had a small business in fuels redutctions, thinning, and hazards in the winter with an established friend. I would go help out my Dad with some light cutting and buck my ass off, when the timming worked out and one day I never left. He was doing a little gypoing on the side and got a few big jobs. I was the happiest person in the world...finally had steady work with the old man. You see he is technically my step Dad, but that is never ever mentioned. He never had a son either. He's my best friend and hero. I know it sounds cheesy, but he is. What a man. My biological father got killed by an unsound Tammarack, in a nasty, brutal accident scene. Ended up cutting off his arm on the handle bars during impact, serious blunt wounds and his head was caved in over the power head of a brand new 084. It was hard growing up. I was in the first grade when he died. My mom remarried within a year. It was confusing as to who my Dad was. We butted heads and this and that, but now we are super super tight. I call him Dad because he is my Dad and growing up I wanted one so bad, he raised me right, and is my Dad, you know? My mom's side is full of loggers too, just grew up around it and started dabbling in it at a young age. I think I mentioned it before, but nothing like giving a lesson to a 12 year old with a 655 Pro with the chainbreak removed, LOL.