This took place outside of Leesburg in Lake County, Florida, back around 1964 or so. No names have been changed to embarrass the guilty. Claude Spears was my dad's younger brother by sixteen months and the uncle who I was closest to growing up. In his first quarter at the University of Florida when he was not quite 18 years old, he dove into the university swimming pool, struck another swimmer and broke his neck. The accident left him paralyzed from the chest down and he spent nearly two years in rehab (no insurance mind you) before he could return home to the farm near Leesburg. Though sheer determination, courage and stubbornness, he carved out a life for himself on the family farm and used good ol' cracker ingenuity to make sure he could participate in the usual country boy activities. Though he was unable to use his fingers, a surgery in rehab gave him the ability to grip with his left hand by cocking his wrist. This allowed him to use a hoe, hold a fishing rod, etc. I spent many, many hours hunting and fishing with Uncle Claude and serving as his hands for farm chores. Summers we were nearly inseparable.
Not wanting Claude to be limited to fishing the shallow ponds around the farm, granddaddy acquired an Orlando Clipper fiberglass boat with a 60 horsepower Gale outboard motor. Now, you don't just roll a wheelchair up into one of those. He had a local handyman create a fiberglass pedestal in the center of the boat and mounted a swiveling bucket seat, complete with seat belt, on it. Next, we hung a big chain hoist in an oak tree down by the tractor shed. We'd hoist Uncle Claude up in the tree on the chain hoist, back the boat under him, set him in that bucket seat, buckle him up and roar off to the lake. If I'm lyin' I'm dyin'! We'd run 20-30 minutes at 40-60 mph, Claude with his back turned to the wind, waving to whoever might honk or holler as we passed. What happened if it rained? Well, Uncle Claude got wet!
This particular day we were going bream and shellcracker fishing on Lake Harris. southeast of Leesburg, using the old boat ramp off of highway 27. Dad was driving the truck and was a bit impatient (his normal state back in those days) as we had gotten a late start. He swung into the parking lot and jumped out, ordering me to hold the bow line of the boat While he backed the boat (and, of course, Uncle Claude) into the water. I took my designated position and he started the boat down into the water. All seemed to be going smoothly . . . at first.
Suddenly, Uncle Claude began screaming in terror! I'M SINKING, I'M SINKING, YOU DIDN'T PUT IN THE DAMNED DRAIN PLUG!! There were some other short, vulgar words, phrases and epitaphs in there that I need not repeat. Water was flooding into the bottom of the boat around his motionless feet through the open drain hole in the transom and Uncle Claude was NOT going to go down with the ship. You might say he was apoplectic - hollering and waving his arms around like a Saturday morning cartoon!
What did dad and I do? Well, it took us a while to get up off the ground and catch our breath from laughing so hard! You see, it wasn't quite the emergency that Uncle Claude was making out. Understand, the boat is still hooked to the truck and can't actually "sink" as it is still sitting on the boat trailer on the concrete boat ramp. All we have to do is pull forward, let the water drain back out, put the plug in (as we should have done in the first place) and all is well. Uncle Claude did not see it that way. To say he was not AT ALL amused would be a VAST understatement. We must have told that story a thousand times at family gatherings over the years and Uncle Claude never laughed once!