Christmas Crash of ‘74

It was Christmas morning, 1974, and eleven-year-old me (born in ’63, for the mathematically inclined) had just torn open the greatest present in the history of aviation gifts: a Cox P-40 Warhawk. We’re talking the full Flying Tiger treatment: shark mouth snarling, olive drab plastic gleaming under the tree lights, powered by that legendary .049 engine that sounded like a chainsaw having an identity crisis.

I didn’t even pretend to care about the other gifts. “Dad, can we fly it NOW?” I begged. Dad, being the world’s most patient father and clearly fueled by too much coffee, glanced out at the backyard buried under a fresh foot of Christmas snow and said, “Why not? Let’s make history, hotshot.”

We bundled up and marched outside like we were launching the Enola Gay. Dad primed the engine, flipped the prop a few times, and after a glorious cough and a plume of blue nitro smoke, that little beast screamed to life. BRRRRRRRRR! I grabbed the control handle with trembling hands and launched my fighter into the crisp winter air.

Lap one: perfection.

Lap two: I was basically Chuck Yeager.

Lap three: fate laughed.

On the third circle, my magnificent Warhawk decided it had unfinished business with Mom’s hanging flower basket, the one she’d left dangling from the porch all winter like a piñata of doom. With kamikaze precision, the P-40 zeroed in and SLAMMED straight into it. There was a spectacular CRACK-SPLINTER-POOF, followed by a sudden, total, heartbreaking silence.

I turned around.

There, in a perfect snow crater, lay the mortally wounded .049 engine, alone, no longer defiant, just quietly steaming into the cold air like a fallen soldier giving up his last breath. Around it lay a festive explosion of shattered red, green, and camouflage plastic bits. One wing was in the rosebush. The tail was impersonating a Christmas ornament. The shark mouth? Buried nose-first in a snowdrift, looking like it had just lost a bar fight.

I waited for the yelling. The grounding. The “You should’ve been more careful!”

Instead, Dad just stared at the wreckage for a long second, hands on his hips. Then he sighed, slung an arm around my shoulders, and said gently, “Well, kid… I’m really sorry.”

Sorry? He was sorry? I’d just turned a perfectly good airplane into postmodern snow art in under fifteen seconds!

I lost it first, started cracking up at the absurdity of it all. Then Dad joined in. We stood there in the snow, laughing like lunatics while the little engine lay silent and steaming in its snowy grave.

Looking back, Dad wasn’t sorry about the plane. He was sorry that hanging basket finally got what was coming to it, and that my glorious Air Force career lasted exactly three laps.

Best Christmas crash ever. Merry Christmas ’74: shortest test flight in history.

The Samurai meets a White Chocolate Vanilla Latte

"I'll have a grande white chocolate vanilla latte......", I know kind of a weird way to start a blog entry, but let me tell you why!

70 years ago today, Japan was locked in a Titanic battle with America, as 1944 faded it became clear that nothing could stop the American juggernaut. As desperation and panic gripped Japan it looked to a new unthinkable weapon to strike at the unstoppable American forces.

That weapon was the Kamikaze!

Several years ago my daughter (Rachel) met some new kids at her youth group. A Japanese family had recently moved to Marysville, Wa from Japan. Having a love for everything Japanese, my daughter was drawn to them and they quickly became friends. Over XBOX games I also became friends with their two boys, Jin and Lou.

In 2007 my daughter and I traveled to Japan to visit several families whose children had stayed with us during previous years as exchange students. We had become close with many of those families and had been invited on several occasions to visit Japan and the time had now come to do so.

While there, we toured many of Japan's most historic attractions, and of course, while touring those sites you need to bring back a souvenir or two... there were many to choose from. One that caught my eye was a small replica set of Samurai Armour, I have always been intrigued by the Samurai so I picked one up and brought it home as small reminder of my visit.

One day after defeating hordes of Nazi Zombies, Jin and I were talking about our trip to Japan when my Samurai Armour came up. I proudly showed him the small set of armour thinking he would be impressed..NOT! Looking at my itty bitty set of armour Jin says... "Mr. Chris, we have a set of armor like that at my grandmothers home in Japan" he exclaims, "you do,...?,is it the bigger set for boys day?" 

(Boy's Day is May 5 and was known until recently as "Tango no Sekku", the Samurai Helmet and Armour are symbols of a strong and healthy boy)

He looks at me and (almost laughing, but politely not) says "No.... we have a real set of Samurai Armour!"....I ask "Where did you get that?"..."My fathers family is Samurai, it's been in our family for generations!"

Being the military historian that I am, my mind begins to race as I ask.....

"Seriously...?"

"Yes!"

Knowing his father is too young to have served I ask...

"Did your grandfather serve in the military during WWII...?"

"Yes!"

"What did he do...?"

"He was a pilot"

"Is he still alive...?"

"No, he died during the war"

"Do you know how he died...?"

"He was a....Kama...Kame...I can't pronounce it...",  I say "Kamikaze?"..."Yes, that's it!"

As we hosted the many different Japanese exchange students, one of the questions I would always ask them was "is your family Samurai?". It might seem like an odd question, but I have always been intrigued and interested in the Samurai and had hoped to one day meet a member of a Samurai family to discuss it with... now I had!

After Jin's revelation about his family history, I would often find myself thinking how amazing it was that their grandfather was a Kamikaze and now his very own flesh and blood is sitting in my family room playing Nazi Zombies with my kids. What would he be thinking.

I'm sure it would have been incomprehensible to him, because if you think about it, it is! But, I also think he would be proud of them and amazed at how close our nations have become since this day 70 years ago.

Jin and Lou may not be warriors in the traditional sense, but they possess many virtues held by the Bushido Code (Samurai way of life), chief among those virtues was the drive to master whatever they chose to pursue. For them it was Guitar and Bass, the two brothers were so amazingly gifted that they were awarded scholarships to Berklee College of Music in Boston (kind of like the Harvard of Music).

Anyway, one day Jin calls me up and says "Mr. I Chris, my Mom has to have Laser eye surgery this coming Saturday and my Dad is out of town, can you drive us to her eye appointment since she wont be able to drive after the surgery?"

Sure I say and that following Saturday, my daughter and I, Jin, Lou and their mother head to Renton for her eye surgery.s

After dropping off their mom, I ask "anyone up for a Starbucks?"

A collective "Yes Sir!" and off to Starbucks we go.

The friendly barista asks, "what can I get started for you?"

"a tall Americano for me" I say.

and for you miss...

"a small mocha please!" says Rachel

and you...

Jin walks up and speaks the following words of infamy that I will never forget "I'll have a grande white chocolate vanilla latte!"

I look at Jin in disbelief and say "are you kidding me, a white chocolate vanilla latte?.... your grandfather is rolling in his grave!"

And now you know how a Samurai met a white chocolate latte!

"Thrift Store Epiphany"

I grew up to be thankful for what God has given me and have always considered myself a humble guy.

So being called a "snob" is a word that is very foreign to my lexicon. Now I admit that when it comes to beer, OK, I'm a snob (I only drink micro brews) and yes, I suppose cars too, although I don't know why as I only drive Land Rovers?

For everything else I usually buy what I like, I don't care if it's from Nordstrom or Walmart. I don't wear the latest and greatest...I just want something that will last and is a good value, but it has to be new.

When it comes to value, my wife is the epitome of the thrifty shopper and she doesn't care if it's new or not, she just want's to save money...which is a good thing and probably why we live in a house instead of an apartment!!

As you all know, clothes are expensive and when you have growing kids it can be a budget buster, so from an early age she started to shop at our local thrift stores. I never minded thrift stores for the kids, or anyone else, but you could never get me near one. My perception was who wants someone else's hand me downs, they might be gross!

She would always come home with new clothes for the kids and treasures for herself, usually some glassware that she just had to have! (Most of which are now in a cabinet in our garage where they have been since the day they came home!!)

I would always be invited, but my response was always the same, "No" as I stuck my nose in the air, which would bring the rhetorical "You're a snob" to which I would reply with pride, "while yes.... yes, I am!!"

As the years past, my indignation towards thrift-store's never faltered, but, my kids became infected with their mother's thrift-store virus. When my oldest son went off to college he carried on Mom's tradition, whenever he was home on break it was off to the local Goodwill, an hour later he'd come home with a huge bag of goodies...."Josh, how much did you spend...?"....."$30.00!"..."you got all that for 30 bucks...WOW!"...he must have had $400.00 worth of clothes and gear. I began to think maybe you can find cool things at thrift-stores.

Every year we travel over to Lake Chelan for a family vacation/reunion with my parents and sisters family. Chelan is a beautiful place, it's great for relaxing and visiting wineries, but in October there isn't a lot to do on the lake itself...so you have to find other things to keep your sanity.

One of the things we do as a family is hit the Church bazaar in Manson and the local thrift stores in Chelan. Most of the stuff is a collection old books, tools and cast off clothes ( I can usually find a gawd awful sweatshirt as a gag gift for Christmas), but occasionally you find a rare treasure...one time we found a newspaper from Man's first walk on the moon...for free in a box of papers they were throwing out!

But, the coupe d tat was a few years ago when my parents told us about the Lake Chelan Senior Center thrift shop in Chelan Falls. We hadn't been there before so we thought we'd give it a try. This thrift shop was not your typical collection of hand-me down clothes, no siree, it was a collection of hand-me down Christmas ornaments and coffee makers...but at least no clothes!

With low expectations, I begin to look through their haphazard collection of dinnerware when something caught my eye. I instantly recognized the iridescent glow and supple contours emerging from a knife block...I picked up the block and started to examine the contents...hummm, these look like...no they couldn't be.... Cutco knives? I look at the price, 3 bucks, no way...these must be imitation for that price and I put them back. I start to look at more junk and then this little voice inside says "you better go look again!".

So I listen to my little voice (Yes, I hear voices) and decide to take a closer look, I remove the tape holding them in and pull one out and low and behold it's a genuine Cutco dinner knife, my jaw drops as I examine them and see they are all indeed Cutco dinner knives and they're brand new (these retail for $37.00 each and there are 8 of them!!)

"Are these the right price" I asked the nice gray haired lady at the cash register? She examined them and replied, "yes, they're three dollars, are you shopping for anything, else?", feeling kind of guilty like I just stole candy from a baby I reply "Yes" and decide to look for something else. I looked around and found what I call the "Christmas Grotto",  most of the stuff was a collection of cheap Chinese made trinkets which included an almost new Garfield's First Christmas ornament!! Resisting the Garfield ornament, I look up and along the wall I see something that catches my eye.

I instantly recognize the handcrafted paddles and beautifully carved figurines. Somehow, buried in this sea of plastic...is a handcrafted German made Manger Pyramid, I pick it up marvel at the quality and then look at the price....it's $8.00 (retails for at least $125.00!), thank you Lake Chelan Senior Center!!

Suffice it to say that after leaving the Lake Chelan Senior Center thrift-store with $421.00 worth of treasure for $11.00 I felt pretty good and my opinion of thrift-stores rose dramatically. Even after all that, I still stuck my nose in the air when it came to buying clothes. However, that all changed last year when I was in a meeting with my boss.

I was admiring his shirt and asked..."John, nice shirt, where did you get it?"..."Goodwill!"..."are you serious?"..."yeah, I go there all the time on my way home from work"...I was impressed!

It was at that moment I finally had my thrift-store epiphany, I figured if my GQ/ Mercedes driving boss can shop for clothes at a thrift-store I suppose I can give it a try too...and I did...and I liked it...a lot! I found so many good deals on clothes I started bragging to everyone as if I had invented the wheel or something. Most people just looked at me with indignation as if to say "duh...you're fifty years old and you just figured out thrift-stores are a good place to shop?"

So now I can say I'm infected with the virus and usually try to buy all my clothes at the thrift-store before I shop anywhere else. I've gone from being a thrift-store snob to someone who even buys thrift-store shoes (two pairs of almost brand new Nike Free's ($100.00 ea retail!) at the Bellevue Goodwill for $10.00 ea). Scoring Nike's is great, but there are perils associated with thrift-store shopping, if your in too big a hurry, sometimes things can fall through the cracks...literally.

One day as summer approached, I was looking for some shorts and found what I thought were brand new swim trunks, I quickly paid for them and when I got home, decided I better try them on (should have done that at the store!). So I try them on (without looking in them first) and they fit fine, so taking them off I look down and am horrified to see that the previous owner must have worn them pretty high and didn't use any toilet paper!!

(Thankful I was still wearing underwear) I quickly toss the trunks into the washing machine hoping that the "skid marks" are just stains, but, they weren't as they washed out just fine, which grosses me out even more knowing nobody washed them before donating them!

It's the kind of incident that could shake my new found fondness for thrift-store's to it's core, but like water off a ducks back I shrugged it off! (But, I admit I don't buy swim trunks anymore!)

My affinity for thrift-stores is still strong, so strong that while Dixie and I were on vacation in San Diego we spent half a day visiting San Diego's finest thrift-stores. I can hardly wait to show off what I found to the chagrin of the many Seahawk's fans I know...I'll give you a hint it's scarlet and gold!

Go Niners!

"LawnMan"

Most of you probably remember the movie "The Last Samurai". During his forced captivity, Capt. Algren (Tom Cruise)  falls in love with the Samurai way of life. He talks about how everyone "from the moment they wake, they devote themselves to the perfection of whatever they pursue"

We all know someone like that, it might be your daughter who pursues perfection in her studies and teaching, or your son, whose skills on a mountain are unsurpassed.

My little town has someone like that, I call him the "Lawnman"

I don't know the Lawnman, not sure I want to, but his dedication to having the perfect lawn are unequaled.

Whether it be day or night, rain or shine and even season to season, he is there, sculpting and crafting his lawn to perfection.

I first observed Lawnman last December (2013). As I waited at the stop light, he was hard to miss, in the middle of a downpour, down on all four's, he's tearing up his sod. He lives on a major corner here in town that I drive by almost daily. His home is unspectacular, even run down with less than stunning vehicles parked out front.

Last year we had a mild winter so there was plenty of time for Lawnman to prep his yard for the upcoming growing season. Everyday I drove by, there he was, in any weather, grooming his small plot, extracting more sod here, filling holes or leveling there. His dedication was impressive.

As Winter gave way to Spring, the transformation taking place to Lawnman's green was most extraordinary. The newly planted grass seed was coming in nicely, then patches of green started to appear and it started to fill in....I was impressed, it was beautiful!

At this point most people would be happy with a nice new lawn and move on to something else...not Lawnman. Everyday he was primping here and preening there. If his lawn had a dip he would be out there in the dark with a flashlight filling it in and then reseeding it. If it showed a different shade of green, it was uprooted and replanted....he wanted perfection.

To many he might seem a little crazy...

But you know, I have to give him credit, his lawn is now the nicest in town, which is the point of all this. He may not be able to afford the most glamorous home or vehicles. But with a little dedication, elbow grease and some grass seed, maybe you can change the world, one blade of grass at a time and achieve perfection!

Here's to you Lawnman!

" The Scarlet Blanket"

With football season just days away I want to remind all my friends and family that yes, I do bleed scarlet and gold, but I also have a place in my heart for blue and green too. Yes, I am a lifelong 49er's fan, but I've grown to adopt the Seahawks (even though they're my home town team) too......let me tell you why.

As a kid, growing up in Seattle, I started to really like football when I was 9 or 10. At that time the only professional football team anywhere near Seattle in the early 70's (yes, I'm that old) were the San Francisco 49er's. They were my local team and they became my first love, I had the little 49er's helmet you get out of the bubble gum machine,  49er's stickers plastered everywhere in my room, I even had a 49er's jacket. I grew up watching John Brodie throw to Gene Washington, long before anyone knew who Jim Zorn and Steve Largent were. Those guys were my heroes and I will always have a soft spot in my heart for the Niner's. Yes, I know today you have Colin Kaepernick who everyone likes to hate, he's Yin to Russell Wilson's Yang, but you have to admit he is one heck of a talented QB despite the antics!

By the time I reached my teenage years the Seahawks were just getting started, Jim Zorn and Steve Largent were creating magic on the field, but not much more and my first love was still that team from the City by the Bay.  The year I graduated High School  the Seahawks, would go 6 and 10, while the Niner's won their first Superbowl.

As I grew older, I went to college, got married, and started to raise a family, but my love for football was as strong as ever, even to the point where it ruled my weekends during football season. I loved it when my teams won (49er's 5 superbowl wins in 15 years) and hated it when my teams lost (usually the Washington Huskies as I was not really a Seahawks fan). I hated it so much, that it would literally put me into a funk that could last an entire weekend. I'd get mad at my wife, kids, dog, whoever happen to be in my presence. It finally came to a head one day while I was watching the Huskies lose, I got so mad I slammed my foot down on our coffee table and broke the table. I decided then and there that I had a problem and needed to go cold turkey and I did...I walked away from football!

As the years past, I would still follow my teams, but I didn't pay too much attention. The only time I'd watch football was the occasional Superbowl, or with my parents and family at our annual Lake Chelan vacation... where I didn't have a choice. I'd usually start watching and if we were winning it was great, but as soon as they started playing poorly, that crazy person inside of me would start to stir and I knew it was time to go someplace else.

I kept my distance, but then in 2005 (Seahawks first Superbowl season)I had the opportunity to go to a Seahawks game in the new stadium (Seahawks Stadium), I was excited. They had been playing great football and this would give me a chance to see them for the first time since the Kingdome days, I thought I was ready for football again. But I wasn't...nothing could have prepared me for what I witnessed that day....it was complete madness. I was in the presence of 67,000 psychopaths watching a football game. It reminded me of a religious revival on steroids, only instead of worshiping God, these people were worshiping football. I couldn't get out of there fast enough, I walked away that day knowing I had made the right choice by leaving football behind and didn't watch another game until the Superbowl loss to the Steelers!

I've always been very political, I even campaigned for Ronald Reagan (Our last great President) as a Young Republican at Washington State University. As you know, politics can consume and fill your life, just like something else...football. I became so focused on politics (more than usual), that I was plugged in almost 24/7 (Watching cable news, talk radio, etc) and that is not healthy, it started to have an effect on me physically. I began getting terrible stress headaches that seemed to only get worse. Something had to change, I had to find something that would take my mind off politics and yes... it would eventually be football again!

At the beginning of the 2013 football season I was openly rooting for the Niner's,   (kind of a dangerous thing to do in Seattle) it actually started more out of spite for those psychotic Seahawks fans I worked with more than anything else. But, as the season progressed I notice a transformation in me, I was really starting to enjoy football again. With every win I was drawn in and started to forget the troubles of the world. To many it would seem like I was jumping on the band wagon, but it wasn't that way at all. For me it was therapy, a way to enjoy life without worrying about Obamacare, my job or whatever the current scandal was. Every week there was something to look forward to...it was electric! I felt like a kid again, rooting for the Niners, but this time they were wearing Blue and Green, and instead of Brodie and Washington you had Wilson, Baldwin and the Legion of Boom.

As the 2014 season begins I can honestly say I have learned to love football again (I'm actually listening to the Hawks/Raiders game now...good thing it doesn't count, ouch!), old age has a tendency to take the edge off of even the sharpest of blades and now I truly find football therapeutic (except for the Niners vs Seahawks NFC Championship game, WOW).

Yes, I'm a proud Niner fan, I even like Kaepernick and will root for them in every game they play (no apologies!), but it was Russell Wilson and the 2013 Seahawks that made me fall in love with football again and finally made me a true Seahawk fan after 38 years...and for that I'm truly thankful....but, there has to be

a "but", you always remember your first love and mine was and still is that team from the City by the Bay, go Niners and Seahawks too, I know I'm Bipolar.

Here's a picture of a hat my son's girlfriend made for me reflecting my football schizophrenia:

If it makes some of you feel better, I was actually rooting for the Hawks in the NFC Championship against the Niners!

Ok, now you're probably wondering why I called this post "The Scarlet Blanket", well...

I walk my dog Cooper just about every evening after dinner. We always take the same route, down the street, over to the elementary school and back home, it's about a mile and half walk. Anyway, when school was out in June we were walking past some shrubs near the school when I noticed something scarlet in the bushes. I decided to check it out, well low and behold what did I find, but an almost brand new San Francisco 49er's blanket. I couldn't figure out why it was there...maybe some kid brought it to school and was bullied by some psycho Seahawk fan's spawn and felt pressured to discard it or maybe it belonged to some homeless Niner's fan far from home. It didn't matter, I liked it, I wanted it, but...

I'm an honest guy and also because it might be hiding something gross (I hadn't picked it up yet), I left it there thinking maybe the owner would come along.

For weeks it remained there...undisturbed, always catching my eye every-time we walked by. Then in mid-July I decided it was time to bring my prize home.

By this time it had been there for quite a while, so I didn't know what to expect when I picked it up. I almost grabbed a pair of latex gloves before I drove over in my recovery vehicle.

As I trekked through the thicket, I approached the blanket. Cautiously bending over to pick it up, I began to wonder what could be inside, maybe there was some disgusting reason it was thrown into the bushes in the first place. So as I guardedly lifted it up and began to inspect it, I was relieved as only a pair of dirty socks tumbled to the ground...I left those behind!!

So now after a few heavy duty cycles through the washing machine, Dixie and I have a nice warm blanket to enjoy this coming football season...Go Niner's!!

 UPDATE!!! Yesterday (10/25/2014), while I was walking Cooper near the very spot of the "recovery" of the Scarlet Blanket, I saw two little girls playing on the schoolyard (part of the YMCA after school program).

They see Cooper, walk up to the fence and say "what a cute dog, can we pet him", so I walk Cooper over to the fence and the girls reach through the fence and start scratching his head, after a few seconds this one little girl looks up at me and see's my 49er's hat..."Why are you wearing a San Fran hat.... how dare you!" Somewhat taken a back by her boldness, I politely reply "Someone has to", thinking to myself she's like maybe 7 and she talks to adults like that, Lord have mercy!

As Cooper and I move on, the other little girl chastises the 49er's hater "That was rude", I smile my faith in mankind renewed!

The more I think about it, she is probably the one who threw the blanket into the bushes in the first place. Her parents probably drive a big blue 4X4 Chevy with Seahawk's stickers plastered all over it, Seahawk flags and a Bud Light sticker on the back....you know the type.

Stilly River Rescue...well, sort of.

When your 51 and your kids are grown, there isn't a whole lot on the adventure scale that peaks your interest. In most cases you've been there and done that, so when your wife comes home at 8:15 and it's rapidly approaching darkness and asks " have you heard from Jonny?" your heart skips a beat when you realize you haven't heard from your son in several hours and haven't even thought about it (I know, shame on me!).

Flashback a few hours:

Jonny gets home from work and says "hey Dad, remember I'm going river rafting"....uh, oh ya, who's going again?... "Whitney (girlfriend), Caleb (her brother) and a few other friends from youth group".  I figure, cute girl, hot summer day, river, sounds fun, what could possibly go wrong...right? "have fun, make sure you're off the river by dark"

Back to the present:

"You need to call Jon!!"..... "I'm sure he's fine, there are 5 of them, what could possibly go wrong....OK, I'll call just to make sure" (not worried, but needing to keep mom happy!))

"Hey Jon, where are you guys at"..."we're still on the river"..."why?"..."It's a lot lower and slower than the last time and there's rocks everywhere...BIG ONES"..."how much further do you need to go?"... "Two miles!"

"You need to get off the river and find the road!"... "we are looking for a clearing now"..."can you send me your GPS coordinates?"..."I'll try"

A few minutes later I get this great little map on my phone (turns out cell phones are useful for other than texting...who would have known) that marks the spot where they're at on the river and I think I know area. I'm like "there's access to the road they'll be fine, we'll just wait for a call when they get back to the car". (still not too worried)

Well Mom is having none of it..."I'm going to go look for them"... I say "they're gonna be fine, there's five of them".

That went over like a lead balloon!

"Ok, fine I'll go without you...", aaand we all know what happens next....

As we jump into the Rover headed for Granite Falls, it's nearly dark.

25 minutes later we arrive at the their GPS coordinates, it's pitch black and the river is a lot further from the road than we thought. We think maybe they're on the roadway at this point (it's been 45 minutes since our last contact with Jon and he's not answering his phone now) and continue to drive towards Jordon Bridge (their final destination) where we find Jonny's car, but no kids.

Since we didn't see them, we figure they are still on the river and decide to start backtracking along the river bank.....on foot...in the dark (Bad idea, really Bad idea!)

So we cross the foot bridge and head down to the river. No more than a few minutes into our search along the banks of the Stilly and Dixie stumbles and falls on the sea of river rocks, badly stubbing her toe, (which usually happens when you wear flip flops in the dark) and I twist my ankle turning to see what happened to her. Even with a powerful flashlight we figure it's no use as the riverbank is treacherous and the darkness absorbs all the light...it was like a black hole! At this point Mom is seriously thinking of calling 911 and I am thinking how much that will cost (still not too worried, but a little).

Just then we get a text from Jon...

"We're on the road and walking back to the car!"

We pick up our pride, hobble back to the Rover, and we're off back the same country-road we came.  A mile and a half later we see the kids (looking like Lewis and Clark at the end of their expedition), wet, barefoot and walking on the side of this lonely byway in total complete darkness (the area we are in is very rural and there are no lights or shoulder to walk on anywhere!!), not a safe place to be.

Suffice it to say, 4 teenagers and 1 very embarrassed adult (youth group leader who should have known better) are more than happy that Mom insisted we go on a search mission.

There's a reason they say, "mom know's best!"

She does and Dad's too!

_________________________________________________________________________________

P.S. Turns out that soon after they got off the phone with us they lost cell phone coverage. Several minutes later they see the warm glow of a backyard lamp. Heading towards it's radiance they surprise a woman enjoying the splendor of this fine evening in her yard along the river. After explaining themselves she graciously grants them access through her sprawling estate up the dirt lane and out to the main thoroughfare. After a considerable amount of time they reach the pavement, text us and we arrived in short order.

Remember, adventure is just a footstep away, just don't forget you cell phone!