On Fishing, Moonshine, and Apollo 13

When I was growing up, Dad and I didn't fish every weekend or even every other weekend, but we fished often enough that some of the details of the trips blur together as I think back on it. One day that I'll always remember clearly, though, was a Saturday morning in mid April of 1970.

Early in the morning, maybe 4:30am, Dad gently woke me up and said, "Let's go." I knew instantly that he wanted to go fishing. I hopped out of bed, threw on some clothes, and we were out the door within ten minutes. Dad had already loaded up the car with our poles and fishing tackle. We went in our '68 white Olds Cutlass station wagon, towing the trailer and boat behind us.

On the way to Kentucky Lake, we listened to the radio. They were preparing for the launch of Apollo 13, scheduled to happen later that day. As we were driving, Dad explained to me that we wouldn't be able to fish the whole day because we had something going on that evening, and we needed to get home to help clean the house and prepare for company.

So the first half of the morning passed pretty uneventfully. We weren't having much success with the fishing, and after about three hours in the boat Dad took us over toward a cove, where it looked like there was a nice area for a picnic and a chance to stretch our legs.

Dad cut the motor off, not knowing how shallow it might be there, and we were drifting in toward the shore. As we got close, I saw a little bit of smoke that seemed to be floating up from the woods not too far away.

"What's that smoke, Dad?" I asked.

As if on cue, a man stepped out from behind a tree, and he had a shotgun in his arms. He wasn't exactly pointing it at us, but he wasn't just casually hanging on to it either. He had a pretty firm grip on that gun.

I only remember two things about the man's appearance. He was wearing jeans, and he looked about as mean as the character that Jack Palance played in the movie "Shane."

"You boys won't be gettin' out here now, will ya," he said. He wasn't asking a question.

Dad's quick response was, "No, I guess we won't." With deft use of an oar, Dad turned us around and got us back out of that cove almost before I knew what was happening.

It wasn't until sometime later that Dad revealed to me that the man was probably moonshining, and that he most likely had a still back there in the woods somewhere, making alcohol.

The rest of the morning passed quickly. We caught three fish -- a bass and two bullheads -- and around noon Dad said it was time to pick up and go. We loaded up the car, got the boat back up on the trailer, and headed out.

After thirty minutes or so, Dad turned on the radio, and the launch of the rocket was nearly ready. We were driving down an old back road -- not a highway by any stretch, but a more direct route that Dad knew -- and the radio was broadcasting the countdown.

Ten ...

I was excited. Less than a year earlier, I had watched on television (along with the rest of the world) as Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon.

Nine ...

I was hoping that Mom and my brother and sister were watching the broadcast back home so that they could tell me about it.

Eight ...

I was thinking about what it might be like to be an astronaut. I hadn't really considered that as a career. I still wanted to be a professional baseball player, but I figured maybe I could do both.

Seven ...

This was exciting!

Six ...

I thought more about that guy with the shotgun. That was scary.

Five ...

My heart was racing!

Four ...

I held my breath.

Three ...

The tension was building ...

BOOM!

The car swerved!

Dad hit the brakes and pulled us to a quick stop. He stepped out of the car, walked around the front, and then he smiled and shook his head. One of our tires had blown out.

Across the road from us was a farmhouse, and a man, woman, and two kids came running out of the house toward us.

"Are you okay?" they asked us. "We were watching the rocket launch and we heard a boom!"

"Yes sir," replied Dad. "Just blew out a tire."

They were relieved, as I'm sure Dad was as well. A flat tire is no fun, but at least it was only a tire and not something worse.

The man told Dad he could pull the car into their driveway, a safer place to change the tire. We laughed about the "boom" and we enjoyed meeting each other as Dad changed the tire. And as I recall, they gave us tall glasses of lemonade before we left. Dad gave them the fish.

As we pulled into our driveway when we reached home, my brother and sister ran out of the house to greet us. "You missed the rocket! It was exciting!" they said.

Dad and I just looked at each other and laughed.