Saving an Abandoned Van

One afternoon after school, I was to help my aunt and uncle set tobacco. So, here I go down a sandy dirt road in rural Franklin County driving my dad’s behemoth conversion van. No one’s at the field. I cut through a tree line to the next field. No luck. Across the way, I see a smaller path next to the pond. The pond dam was just wide enough for me to get the van across. Mind you, the path on the other side was no bigger than a four-wheeler path cut through the woods. I made my way across the dam and then realized I can’t go any further. I try to turn around. I have the pond on one side and a drop-off on the other. I get that ole van halfway turned around and the thing bottoms out. My front tires are not touching the ground, and my backend can’t go any further or I’d be sliding down the other side. Now I’m panicking. My dad is going to kill me! I abandon the van and walk back out of the fields. I find the field I’m supposed to be at and tell my aunt the story. She’s laughing hysterically and can’t understand how in the world I got that van all the way down there. My uncle goes and gets the local tow truck man. I took my place on the tobacco setter next to my Mema and aunt and was SO relieved when I saw the truck pull out with the van hitched to the back. Those men saved the van from drowning and me from having to explain things to my dad. My aunt still laughs about it!

Tonya Smith, Hurdle Mills, a member of Piedmont Electric Cooperative

The ‘Killer Boat’

Growing up in the ’60s and ’70s in Beaufort, like most kids of that era, I had a boat before I had a driver’s license. One summer day, l dropped off my cousin at a Taylor’s Creek dock after a day of fishing and skiing in my overpowered Jon Boat. My outboard motor was a “work in progress” — hard to start and even harder to control.

That day, what could go wrong, did.

Without thinking, I grabbed the starter cord handle with my right hand, neglecting to steady the steering handle with my left. The engine surprisingly started on the first revolution, instantly roaring to full throttle. It kicked hard to one side as my hand desperately tried to reach the steering handle.

In a split second, I was airborne, then soaking wet, as the boat surged away without me.

The boat began circling wildly with me trapped in the middle, the motor roaring, and the current bringing it closer with each pass. I furiously treaded water and spun in circles keeping an eye on the boat, convinced it was going to run me over. My heart racing, waiting for an opening. I let the boat get closer to me and, finally, seeing a good gap, I made a desperate dash across its wake, propelling myself outside its deadly circle.

Swimming to shore, I noticed a crowd growing along Front Street’s breakwater. Most stared in amazement, some pointing, and I imagined they were all laughing. In this small town, everyone knew me and my parents. But nothing got hurt but my feelings. My boat hit a dock piling, flipping and dumping all its contents in the water. I pulled it ashore and bailed it out. My father and I rebuilt the outboard again — this time with all the right parts! I got grounded, but repeatedly being asked by townsfolk if I was “that kid with the killer boat” was the worst punishment of all!

Tom Iverson, Franklinton, a member of Wake Electric

Sidewalk Mishap

It was about 40 years ago, back when pantyhose was an essential for every lady’s wardrobe. I wore pantyhose with just about every outfit, including jeans, so when I got undressed I took my jeans and pantyhose off at the same time. Naturally I would always forget that my pantyhose were still inside my jeans when I would put them on.

As the story goes, my husband and I lived in a quaint community built by Goodyear Tire and Rubber Company. Just two blocks from our home was a movie theater, so we would walk to the show. One such evening, we were on our way walking when my husband said, “Hey, what’s that coming out of your jeans?” Naturally he said it loud enough that everyone stopped and looked at me.

Wouldn’t you know it, my pantyhose were coming out of my pant leg, dragging along the sidewalk. Instead of helping me get out of this embarrassing moment, my husband stepped on the exposed pantyhose and stretched it out as far as he could! Well, the pantyhose snapped really tight and came flying across the sidewalk. I ran to scoop them up, shove them into my purse and went on to the movie.

Needless to say, that was the last time I took pantyhose off in my jeans!

M.J. Regallis, Bolivia, a member of Brunswick Electric

Happens to the Best of Us

My most embarrassing moment happened during a clogging performance in front of a live audience. My brand-new taps made my shoes dangerously slick, and combined with a polished stage floor, it was a recipe for disaster. Barely 30 seconds into the routine, as I danced out with my partner, I slipped and landed hard on my butt, but the worst was yet to come, as my clogging skirt flipped over my head, leaving me momentarily blinded and humiliated! As soon as I could untangle myself, I scrambled to my feet, rejoined the routine, and somehow managed to finish with as much grace as I could muster before fleeing the stage.

Kim Ross, Waynesville, a member of Haywood EMC

Editors Note: Learn more about Kim Ross and her J Creek Cloggers in our July issue.

Up in Smoke

When my sister and I were in high school, she decided to be in the Miss Merry Christmas pageant in the town of Star. The contestants had to ride in the parade and attend the pageant at night. My mom asked a local dentist if we could use his convertible Alfa Romeo car to ride in the parade. I was driving and my sister, who was all dressed up, rode on the backseat through the parade. About halfway through the parade, the car started to overheat, and smoke was billowing out so bad that my sister was not visible. I, on the other hand, was sunk down into my seat in embarrassment. I felt so bad for my sister. When we reached our mom at the end of the parade route she was in disbelief. Although my sister didn’t win the pageant, this experience is something we still remember today.

Melissa McIntyre, Troy, a member of Randolph EMC