Browncoat in training

Psst...what's next?

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Weird tales in the life of me
I was finishing up a short story when something I glanced at on the TV caught my attention. It was a local channel covering some dumb ass country boy who had fell out of his boat while fishing, couldn't get back in, so decided to swim to shore while pulling his boat behind him.

Now some may think that this is an insulated incident, but I have living proof that it actually happens at least twice.

When I was around twelve or thirteen, my very expressive father decided to trade his motorcross bike for a speed boat. This unexpected trade came up the following morning after he got stuck between two trees. Dad has always done things on the spur of the moment, so when he packed the bike, me, and my mom up to travel to a little city thirty miles down the road to make a trade. We didn't think much of it.

Anyhoo, he made the trade by 9:00 am, we were in Chattanooga on the lake by 10:00, took us at least an hour to figure up how to get the thing into the lake without losing the truck with it (another story in itself), and then it quit working around 6:30. Just in time for nightfall. We spent thirty minutes trying to figure out what to do, another ten to realize that we didn't have two oars, and then at least fifteen while we waited for my dad to stop cussing, throwing things and jumping up and down.

After he calmed down, he spent another fifteen minutes running from one side of the boat to the other, using the oar to just swing us back and forth.

Now imagine the site we made for those on the shore busy pulling their own boats out of the water.  A boat, stranded in the middle of the lake, with a woman, a child and a crazy guy running from side to side, swiping an oar at the water, cussing loudly while he did it.  The lake patrol officer came by offering help but dad refused, instead, he decided to jump into the water, tie the boats docking rope around his neck and swim us in.

After thirty minutes of the breast stroke (The patrol sat in their boat off to one side watching the whole thing, as well as a crowd of onlookers now sitting by the dock) of which got us no where, he finally relented and waved the patrol over. By this time, it was well into the evening and darkness had covered the area. By 9:00pm, we had finally pulled the boat back into it's trailer (with the help of at least six other people). By 10:00 pm, the boat was sitting the front yard of the previous owner, and we were struggling to put the motorcycle back into the back of the truck.

Now, episodes like this were very common in my household while I was growing up. I have so many bazarre and wacky tales to tell about my family tree, that I'm sure I could keep a sitcom going for at least three years.

It just goes to show, there's always someone else out there doing dumb ass stuff, and are more than likely NOT from the same working class. There's alway one guy/girl in each money bracket.


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