I well remember one time I got on the little machine and went down through San Angelo and on out to McCamey. The trucking business was slow at that time and I wasn't especially needed at home.
It began to rain as I rode west out of San Angelo. And as I went farther west I ran onto a lot of new road construction. The road became muddy and boggy beyond description, and the rain kept falling. Of course you know you can't ride a motorcycle on slick, muddy roads, nor in water on muddy roads. But you can walk along beside it and hold it up and guide it while the motor pulls it along. That is, you can until the water gets too deep, like where it flows across the road in cement dips. That's what I was doing until I came to one such place and I knew the water was far too deep to try to cross. It was a real river of water. I doubt that an army tank could have made it across. Anyway, cars and trucks couldn't have crossed it. Come to think of it, there were no cars nor trucks on the road. I hadn't seen one during the last two or three hours. In fact, I think there was only one person on that sloppy road between San Angelo and McCamey—and he was a crazy kid on a motorcycle.
Some people might wonder why the boy didn't turn around and go back. But I knew the kid personally, and I knew he wasn't in the habit of starting something and then turning back. He never even gave it a thought that he should go back. He was headed west, and turning back wouldn't get him out west.
There was a railroad beside the highway. If I could get my cycle up on the railroad, I could cross the creek on the railroad bridge. But there was a ditch full of rushing water between me and the railroad. The banks of the ditch were steep, especially on the side next to the railroad. The water in the ditch was at least waist deep and the ditch was twice that deep. So now what do I do? There was just one thing to do, build a bridge across the ditch.
I started walking along the railroad and finally found one loose crosstie. I put it on my shoulder, carried it and placed it across the ditch. It was just long enough. But I knew I couldn't very well balance a motorcycle on one slick crosstie without another tie for me to walk on beside the machine . Again I looked all up and down the railroad but there wasn't another tie nor a piece of lumber—not even a fence post. I finally thought to myself, "So what? Let's not just stand here in the rain doing nothing. Let's try it." We did. That is, we tried it. We didn't make it, but we got half way across before I slipped and fell.
Even before I hit the water, I glanced back and saw the motorcycle leaning toward me and I thought to myself, "Boy, you better hit that water on the run or that thing is going to be right down on top of you." So I dived down stream. The rushing water helped carry me from beneath the falling motorcycle.
I struggled to my feet against the angry current, blew muddy water out of my mouth, brushed it out of my eyes and witnessed the worst setback I had suffered in my life.
The bridge was okay, but the idea that I could balance me and a motorcycle on one narrow crosstie was a complete failure. We didn't make it across the bridge and the cycle didn't stay up there on it. But I knew where my little Scout was hiding. I could see one handle bar sticking up out of the water.
There was probably no other person within forty miles, but as I stood there in that muddy water, I seemed to hear Someone shout to me, "All right Boy, don't just stand there! Get busy and get that thing out of there before it gets full of muddy water." I fought my way upstream, stumbling over the cycle on my way to the visible handle bar. I got two hands full of motorcycle and tried to stand it up on its wheels, but it wasn't easy. And even when I got it up, it was still mostly under water.
The banks of the ditch were steep and slick. It was hard for me to stand, and the swift current was not friendly. I slipped and fell a time or two. It seemed hopeless and the little Scout was so heavy. And then I seemed to hear that inner voice again, "Heave, Boy, heave! No, stupid, not back on the highway—up on the railroad! First one end, now the other end. Tumble it over, you can't mess it up any more than it is already. Okay, so you did it. Now wash your nasty self up and get out of that muddy water."