Why Did The Trailer Cross The Road?

So there I was...sitting in my kitchen listening to all the banging on the roof as the workers tore off the old and put a new layer of shingles on my house yesterday.  It brought back memories of having the roof shingled at the first house Kim and I owned in Missouri.  It was our responsibility to take the old shingles full of nails to the dump.  Kim's dad had a heavy duty trailer made from the bed of an old pickup truck that we worked hard to fill with the very heavy material.  I called Kim from work the next day and said I would be late getting home so we would miss getting to the dump on time.  She said she could hook the trailer up herself and meet me there.  I remember asking if she was sure she could do this but she sounded quite confident.  What she did not notice was the trailer had a two inch receiver and there was a one and seven eighths ball on the hitch.  As she drove for the dump all was well until she hit the bump at the top of a hill.  There was a noise at the back of the vehicle and then she watched as the trailer passed by her on the passenger side as it sped down the hill.  Fortunately, it headed for a culvert and flipped throwing it's cargo all over someones back yard.  Many hours were spent combing the grass for nails and the trailer now had a shape that was a bit more aerodynamic.  

Lesson learned...check the details.

As for me...I'm just happy she's willing to try.

Diving For Treasure

So there I was...gasping for air as I broke the surface of the water with treasure in hand.  The day started with Spencer, a boating friend of mine, asking if Kim and I would go out on his boat with him and his girlfriend to help them hone some of their sailing skills.  The day was beautiful in Noank CT and the sailing lively.  As we returned to the mooring, some hours later,  Spencer prepared to drop sails and turn the engine on for our approach.  I suggested we pick  up the mooring under sail alone as it's good practice for that time when your engine won't start.  I worked with Spencer at the helm and Kim went forward to help said girlfriend grab the mooring line with a boat hook.  As she worked her way around a stay, a metal cable holding the mast up, Kim's bracelet got caught on the stay and popped off her wrist and into the 10 ft deep murky water.  I had bought this bracelet for her in Block Island several years earlier.  The three thin bands of sterling silver made to look like waves with three dolphins riding them would gather compliments whenever she wore it, and she wore it a lot.  The look of horror on her face came from a knowledge that few things that fall overboard are ever found again.  I borrowed a snorkel and dive mask from Spencer and began diving to the bottom over and over again but the poor visibility and constant motion of the boat made it almost impossible to pinpoint where the bracelet would be.  As I got to the end of my energy level I made one more dive and there it was.  It was in the claw of a large Blue Crab and he was running off with it.  I was out of air but knew if I surfaced and came back down, there would be no chance of finding this jewel thief again.  I reached for the bracelet and the crab went into fight mode not wanting to relinquish this shiny object.  Avoiding the free claw I grabbed the bracelet and headed for what my lungs wanted most with the crab holding on until just below the surface of the water where he finally gave up.  Kim started crying when she saw the treasure in my hand and I was what I want to be most of all, her hero.
Later that day we got together with several more friends on another boat for cocktails and as the evening progressed so did the story.  By the time we left that night the crab was 6 ft wide, weighed over 100 lbs and I nearly lost a limb as we did battle for Kim's treasure.

Canoe Tales (Part 3)

So there I was...canoeing the North Fork River with Kim in the bow and me in the stern.  It was a chilly March day and the water temperature was numbingly cold.  We were coming to the end of our trip at a location called Dawt Mill.  This mill, now more like a general store, was established in 1866 and serviced farmers who came from far and wide to get their grain ground and their cotton ginned.  To create the water power needed to do this, there was a dam built across the river.  Over the years a small section on the top of the dam had deteriorated and a few brave souls would attempt to go over the dam with their canoes dropping the 6-8 feet in to the bubbling water below.  It was called, "Shooting the Dawt Mill Dam".  As we approached the area to pull the canoe out a sudden shot of testosterone entered my blood stream and the call of the Dawt Mill Dam was overpowering.  I changed course and picked up speed generating a serious look of concern from Kim but she knew it was inevitable so she started paddling faster.  Approaching the deteriorated section, I aimed for the center and Kim was soon suspended in mid air as my section of the canoe was about to clear the top of the dam.  Then it happened.  We came to an abrupt halt when the skeg of the canoe went hard aground on the cement dam and in slow motion started to tip over due to the force of the rushing water.  Our bodies and all of the gear we had in the canoe were dumped together at the base of the dam like laundry in a wash tub.  The water was shockingly cold and I saw Kim floating downstream unhurt so I started to swim for the canoe and all our belongings.  After getting everything to shore, I went looking for Kim and found her wearing some guys shirt who plucked her out of the river sitting next to a potbelly stove in the Dawt Mill store, still shivering.  I went back outside and pulled the canoe above the dam to try it again by myself this time.  Same thing happened.  Darned testosterone.

Canoe Tales (Part 2)

So there I was...canoeing down the North Fork River in southwest Missouri many years ago with a bunch of guys I worked with.  I was in the stern or back of the canoe and my buddy, Terry King, was in the front.  We were navigating some large boulders in the river and got wedged against one near the shore.  Terry started pushing us backward to free the canoe but unbeknownst to him he was pushing me into overhanging bushes on the side of the river.  Things live in such bushes so I calmly said, "Terry".  No response as he continued to push back.  A little louder, "Terry".  Again no response.  Then I came eye to eye with the large snake hanging on one of the limbs no more than 12 inches from me.  "TERRY",  I shouted and dove face first into the stream forgetting that it was only 6 inches deep.  As I'm flopping around like a beached whale my buddy, that term used loosely, is laughing hysterically from his place of safety.
     Then there was the time Kim and I were canoeing Bryant Creek, also in southwest Missouri.  Again, I was in the stern and as the creek narrowed we passed under the low hanging limb of a tree.  Kim, without saying a word, jumps from the canoe into the foot deep water and runs for the shore.  Bewildered at loosing my canoe buddy, that term used loosely, I look up to see the snake inches from my head.  She left me to be eaten.  Fortunately the snake wasn't interested.

Canoe Tales

So there I was...looking through some old files when I came across a booklet put together by Kim of paragraphed memories written about me by friends for my 40th birthday.  One friend, Terry King, had told of our adventures in canoes before we moved to bigger boats.  When I married Kim she came with a dowry, a seventeen foot aluminum canoe.  Terry and I would go fishing on nearby lakes in it using a cement block as an anchor.  Our wives eventually joined us on canoe trips, called float trips in the Ozarks, going down streams and camping overnight on gravel bars at night.  On one of these trips I was having to change outside behind the dome tent because it was too small inside for my 6' 2" frame.  Kim told me to give her the clothes I was changing out of and she would hand me the new clothes.  Then she reneged on the deal and walked away leaving me naked behind the tent.  I could hear other canoers coming down the river and they would be getting an appalling view as they rounded the bend.  Terry and his wife were standing on the other side of the tent enjoying my predicament.  They especially liked it when I picked up the tent and using it as a shield chased Kim all over the gravel bar until she finally dropped my clothes.  
I should have asked for a larger dowry.

Beware The Days After Christmas

So there I was...sitting in my car the day after Christmas in the middle of a snow storm in the middle of the Berkshires trying to figure out my next move.  The day had started with a hike around a reservoir with my longtime friend, John Chapin after he and his wife Jan were nice enough to put me up for the night in their home.  After much talk and enough exercise I headed to a previous place of employment to touch base with past coworkers since I was in the area.  At about 4pm I was off to the Berkshires, a two hour drive and one of my favorite small restaurants, Bob's Country Kitchen.  As I exited this establishment with a full belly and ready to relax I noticed the snowstorm was hitting its stride with winds whipping and visibility dropping.  I would stay the night at my brother's cottage on a lake close by with minimal heating but plenty of blankets and protection from the storm.  That is until I discovered that the key I had used for the last 20 years didn't work as someone had changed the lock.  Ever the adventurer, meaning I'm nuts, I set off into the storm headed for Rochester.  After several adrenalin rushes I arrived to 14" of snow and a snow plowed mound blocking the driveway at 4:30 in the morning.  Scared Kim half to death coming in the house since I was supposed to be in the Berkshires.  Two hours of sleep and I'm up clearing the driveway so Kim can get to work.
Several years ago, two days after Christmas, my buddy Garret calls in the evening asking if he could pick me up in a few hours to help him bring his new 43'  sailboat from New Hampshire to Connecticut.  Ever the adventurer, meaning I'm nuts, I agree and we drive through the night to arrive just before dawn to the boatyard.  We row out to his boat in the freezing water with a small dingy and slip our way into the ice covered boat.  Off we go using the small diesel engine into 10' rolling seas in the Atlantic Ocean.  There is nothing in the outside cockpit and helm station to protect us from the wind and sea water as it breaks over the bow of the boat.  We have rain gear covering layers of down clothing but the cold always wins.  When Garret would take the helm I would go down into the unheated cabin and hang my feet over the running diesel engine to thaw my toes.  It took three days to make it to Connecticut with one day lost because the fog was so thick coming through the Cape Cod Canal that we had to anchor and wait it out.  When I called my boss telling her I couldn't make it to work because I was caught in the fog she thought that was quite original and would work once.  Arriving home, a hot shower never felt so good.  
So after all these years, ever the adventurer, ever the nut.

Time For A Break

So there I was...trying to put together the weekly blog a day after Thanksgiving but having trouble finding the drive to do so.  It might just have been too much turkey.  I was going to tell about a time in Paris, France when a young Asian woman speaking in broken English approached me on the street wearing a green bowler hat, blond wig and Heidi dress.  She asked if I was an American and when I answered in the affirmative she and her five or six other friends all started jumping up and down and screaming.  Seems there was some sort of initiation that she was going through and she couldn't eat until she had her picture taken with an American.  So the group gathered around me and started clicking pictures as my wife looked on with a most bewildered expression.  Off the group ran giggling all the way.  It is bizarre how these things happen to me but lately things have been very quiet.  I don't doubt that they will get crazy again but I think it's time for a Christmas Holiday.  I'll resume the weekly blog in the new year.  See you in January 2013.