Everybody has a few, so what left a mark in your memory?
First that I recall had me walking down a dirt road in the Everglades when I was 7-8 years old. Dad and Gramps were quail hunting and I figured to find them. Not quite half stride I noticed a moccasin between my feet. I turned and ran almost supersonic.
Not long after I heard a shotgun blast down the road. Turns out they were on the way back and saw my tracks. They were puzzling about how someone walking could spin without putting the other foot down and take off like I did. About that time the snake struck Gramps’ boot and got an education on terminal ballistics.
Everybody has a few, so what left a mark in your memory?
First that I recall had me walking down a dirt road in the Everglades when I was 7-8 years old. Dad and Gramps were quail hunting and I figured to find them. Not quite half stride I noticed a moccasin between my feet. I turned and ran almost supersonic.
Not long after I heard a shotgun blast down the road. Turns out they were on the way back and saw my tracks. They were puzzling about how someone walking could spin without putting the other foot down and take off like I did. About that time the snake struck Gramps’ boot and got an education on terminal ballistics.
So, what’s your story?
I remember this certain young lass in Tropic Utah one summer evening
First memorable one? I was 3. Took a mad ride on a horse named Snort when he jerked the reins out of my dads hands while pop was leading the horse around. Snort saw a group of other ranch horses being driven to another pasture by the hired help and he thought it best to be with them. Sucker ran down the drive to the dirt rode and took a hard right and started the sprint for his buddies when he realized there was something flailing around on the saddle (me with a death grip on the horn) and stopped just long enough for me to bail off into the weeds as he gave me a little shoulder toss to get me moving.
Everybody has a few, so what left a mark in your memory?
First that I recall had me walking down a dirt road in the Everglades when I was 7-8 years old. Dad and Gramps were quail hunting and I figured to find them. Not quite half stride I noticed a moccasin between my feet. I turned and ran almost supersonic.
Not long after I heard a shotgun blast down the road. Turns out they were on the way back and saw my tracks. They were puzzling about how someone walking could spin without putting the other foot down and take off like I did. About that time the snake struck Gramps’ boot and got an education on terminal ballistics.
So, what’s your story?
I remember this certain young lass in Tropic Utah one summer evening
I remember being about 6 or 7 yrs old and sitting down on a creekbank AND out from between my legs slithered the biggest water moccasin. I had just sat on it's hide hole. From that day forward I always know where and what I am sitting on
I was 10. Dad threw the Coleman lantern about 100' cause he couldn't get it to light. Dad always had a short fuse, but that was the maddest I ever saw. Mom and us 4 kids were scared schitless.
I was about 10, when we spent a week visiting with an old Army buddy of Dad's, near the Dismal Swamp in VA. Dad and I went to a farm pond for some fishing. There was an upturned rowboat on the edge of the pond, and when Dad turned it over, a big moccasin with a bad attitude came right at him and Dad beat it to death with an oar. I don't remember much else about that day's fishing.
Flying up a blind canyon in a T-28 in Hawaii without enough room to turn around and not enough airspeed to do a loop. Cleared the far end by maybe 50’. Never did that again. Almost jumping out of an F-4s with jammed flight controls due to a nose tire blowing up in the wheel well at 30k’.
Almost buying it in a T-2 when a flight student got low and slow and I instinctively added power in the back cockpit. He thought I was taking the controls and let go of everything. After the touch down, by coincidence he climbed out and leveled off at the right altitude, etc. and I started taking down my notes. A few seconds later he came up on the ICS and goes, “where are you going sir?”. “$HIT!!!”, I pulled up at full power and just missed the ground, less than a 100 feet. After I turned to the downwind leg, I can barely breathe and he comes up and says, “ I thought you had it Sir!” That’s when I realized what happened. When I added power, he LET GO of the controls 😳 Soooo, we touched down with NO ONE on the controls, lifted off with no one on the controls and by coincidence the jet leveled off at the right altitude. Fortunately he spoke up just in time. After that I was extremely careful talking about it in a lecture about crew coordination and exchange of controls, and even as a simulator instructor, I was really careful about taking control of the simulator, etc.
MANY years ago the landlady's son came by said, ' bought a motorcycle today want to go for a ride'. 18 and stupid sure. . . Off we go on a good smooth wide highway, and every time he spit his tobacco, he jerked the handlebars (at 80). Got back, go off and found his total motorcycle experience was riding it 90 miles home from ABQ that afternoon During the trip I swore if I made it back alive, unless it had four wheels It had to have wings and propeller that I would not be on or in it. 60 years later I have kept my promise
4 or 5, sent to feed the sow in the farrowing pen, she had evidently rolled over on her piglets and ate them all...when I trudged over the style she grabbed me by the arm about mid upper and started dragging me to the farrowing house, I screamed bloody murder and Pop jumped the fence with a 4 pound shop hammer and beat that bitch to death. Not before she pulled a plug out of my arm. Dr. Porter had to cauterize the small vessels as there was nothing to sew shut, tied off the big ones...I can still smell and feel that, ugly scar to this day, no feeling on the elbow side of the arm.
4 or 5, sent to feed the sow in the farrowing pen, she had evidently rolled over on her piglets and ate them all...when I trudged over the style she grabbed me by the arm about mid upper and started dragging me to the farrowing house, I screamed bloody murder and Pop jumped the fence with a 4 pound shop hammer and beat that bitch to death. Not before she pulled a plug out of my arm. Dr. Porter had to cauterize the small vessels as there was nothing to sew shut, tied off the big ones...I can still smell and feel that, ugly scar to this day, no feeling on the elbow side of the arm.
Wouldn't know where to start either... a common statement by more important/famous people than me is... it's always an adventure when they are around me.
Round 2: during most of my high school years I lived on Guam. I started diving with friends, one thing led to another and pretty soon we were commercial spear fishing. Few of the locals ventured into the ocean, but they loved to eat fish. 50 cents/pound, head, guts and scales. Early on we used a one man inflatable raft to hold the fish, and when full clipped stringers in the sides. Last guy to spear a fish towed the raft. So there I was, towing a loaded raft when Jaws showed up. Odd part of that is it bypassed the raft and headed for me. When I first saw it the distance was about 20’.
I don’t recall what kind it was but it was between 10-12’ long. I aimed the gun and fired, hitting it square on the point of its nose. By chance I’d not given thought to distance so it happened that the cord attached ran its length at the point where a little bit of stretch allowed the spear point to poke ol’ toothy in the snout but not penetrate. I dunno if I made his eyes water but the reaction was “Holy chitt! I’m outta here!” Turned tail and ran. None of my buddies saw this despite visibility in the range of 150-200’.
It would not be the last shark encounter, but we never got bit...
Headed into a typhoon on USS Enterprise and went up to the flight deck to install a computer in the birdcage of an EA-6B. Headed into the typhoon so as to lose the Russian trawler that was shadowing us. Wind was strong and the weight of the computer on my shoulder allowed me to walk into it at about 45*. Got to the plane and installed the computer and decided to go over the side onto the catwalk and get inside through the the plane captain's shop. Gust of wind came up the side of the ship and started lifting up off the grating. Grabbed the hand railing and flopped around like ragdoll. Gust stopped and did a face plant on the grating. Must have banged on the door for a few minutes til someone heard me and dragged me in. 90' from the grating to the water + rough seas, never would have found me. Dumbass George
Was working in Hawaii, lived on the north shore, would snorkel about every afternoon after work.
Was in the reefs and a huge shape was coming at me, I was well out so no way to get away. The shape turned into a giant sea turtle, and I swam with it a bit. Heading back to shore I see some girls with snorkel equipment on the beach. When I get to shore I'm going to tell them where to see the turtle but that's not what they are doing.
There's about ten of them and it's a professional photo shoot. Photographer lays each one in the surf and sprinkles sand on them. The other nine girls are bored waiting for their turn, I sit down in the middle of them and start bullchitting, they were happy as hell to have someone to talk to....
I guess since moccasins seem to be a recurrent thing....seining minnows in southern Georgia one finely in my bare feet. I was standing on a rock ankle deep and stepped off into knee deep water...right on top of a moccasin.
I VERY quickly retracted my foot, and since I knew all about snakes and schitt I gave him 20 seconds to vacate, then stepped off again....
Well, he was still there, so I decided to exit...stage left. Trust me when I tell you Jesus was not the only one to walk on water....
Was in High School and me and some buddies skipped class. On the way back, managed to get a flat tire. Stopped to change it when we heard an awful BOOM! A real deep and loud one directly overhead. We looked up to see two planes falling out of the sky after a mid-air collision! One crashed just to the north of us, a Brazilia IIRC and the second, smaller private plane crashed just to the West. We ran over to the one to the north which was in a neighborhood. We were the first on scene and the plane impacted in an intersection, but some of the debris hit a few houses and the Catholic Church, which was fortunately unoccupied. Bodies, or more accurately, body parts were everywhere. Most weren’t identifiable but there was an arm with a radio mic and cable wrapped around it. There was nothing to be done. It was a Terrible mess. I had nightmares for years after seeing that one.
We was playing hide and seek n the trailer, I was gonna hide under the kitchen sink. I got about 1/2 way under there and a big ol grinner was already claiming that spot.
Sitting in the back jump seats of Mom's Country Squire station wagon I watched a jet skid right behind us across a busy intersection and slam into the ice cream parlor in a giant fireball.
My youngest daughter was under a year old, it was late in the morning and she wasn't up yet. That was unusual.
So I went in her room to check her. Face down bare ass naked. I snuck back out, got my wife and a camera to record how funny she looked. Then I went to get her up. Touched her back, ice cold. Freaking out, I slid my hand under her to pick her up. Ice cold, until I got completely under her. Was out of my mind, picked her up and felt her move. She had removed her diaper and peed the bed. Was so cold she was close to hypothermia. Once we got her awake she was shivering like convulsions.
Year's of trucking, logging, being really stupid in cars, never have experienced anything that scary. Not sure if that's an adventure.
About 4 years old, was at my Great Aunts farm. She walked into the summer kitchen to get something, and a Copperhead bit her. My Great grandmother tried to call family for help, but the phone was out.
She didn't drive, so sent me to get help. The farm road was about 3/4 mile, about halfway in a place where you couldn't leave the road, the bull was out and standing on the road. He was a mean bastard, I was under orders to never get near him. Was trying to get past him, when some cousins came up the road like they were running the Baja. They drove bh so fast i dont think they saw me, or the bull. Great Gram had somehow got the phone to work. (Or was so shook she couldn't use it earlier)
PS. Aunt was allergic to the anti venom, so couldn't take it. They packed her in ice and supported her, she had to ride it out. Got pretty ugly, recovery took quite awhile. Lost some function, and it bothered her until she died.
When I was 6 years old I was walking home from the school bus stop when an old man stopped his car, opened the passenger door and told me that my mom had been in an accident and was in the hospital. He told me to get in and he would take me to see her. Being at the edge of our driveway I could see our car and knew mom was home so told him no and as I started to leave he lunged across his car seat, grabbed me and started pulling me in as he started to drive away. I yelled at him to let me go and called him a son of a bitch and a cock sucking mother f u cker. It, apparently, startled him so bad to hear such a young kid talk that way that he loosened his grip enough that I was able to pull free and fall back out of his car and ran to the house shaking like a dog schitting razor blades! I blurted out to mom and dad what had happened and dad loaded me up in the car to try to find the bastard, but no luck we never caught up with him. That was the most terrifying thing I've ever been through! I still, occasionally, have nightmares about it even after 65 years. I find myself shaking a bit just writing this. I often wonder how many kids he molested and how many he killed, if any. Hope the son of a bitch had a miserable painful death!
When I was a kid, we lived in Wyoming, Idaho, British Columbia, and Alberta. I've always been an adventurous sort and most of my relatives are the same. I've been fishing by my self since I was six and I still like stumbling along a rocky creek to catch a little trout. I killed my first animal when I was 8 and learned that once you pull the trigger, you can't take it back. We travelled the Alaska Highway, from Dawson Creek to Fairbanks and back, in 1959. I swam out to the middle of the North Fork of the Clearwater River, in Idaho, to fish a good looking pocket behind a big rock that I just couldn't cast to. The water was cold and I damn near drowned. I was eleven years old and caught a 10 inch trout for my trouble. In later years, I would add a canoe to the mix and this only added to the adventure. I still hike, hunt, fish, and paddle and plan to keep it up. GD