Well, as corny as it sounds, my dad is my dive mentor. For the longest time I thought the reason my dad took me along with him diving was because he recognized my superior diving skills, and God given talent. It took me about three years to realize that the only reason I was invited along was to carry his gear. In fact he often invited other divers to come along so I could carry their gear too. Yep, that was my dad.
On this particular outing we were diving off a beach in Niantic Connecticut. It was a beautiful, sunny, November day, and my dad had planned on going clamming. The beach ran parallel to route one, with the train tracks running between the beach and the road. You would pull down to the railroad bridge, park your car, walk under the bridge on the board walk, turn to the right, and you had about two to three miles of beach. The train tracks followed the coast line for about four miles till you could not see them any more.
I carried all the gear ( as usual ) to a spot that my dad had picked out as a starting point. Now it's interesting to point out that getting suited up with my dad was like being in an operating room and he was a surgeon. The conversation went like this,
Tank.......tank
Bacpac.........bacpac
Reg..........reg, and so on and so on. Next came the suit. The suit of the day was the parkway five zipper special, so named because the suit had five zippers. One down the middle of the jacket, one on each wrist, and one on each ankle. Now it's also interesting to point out that, the original suits were not nylon lined, and putting them on and taking them off, was exciting.
As my dad weighted three hundred and fifty pounds, he naturally had to have a custom made suit, that cost all of about one hundred and fifty dollars.
So here I was, trying to push the sleeve of my dads suit over his fore arm. His fore arm was the size of my thigh. Once again as the suits were not lined either inside or out, you had to be very careful how you handled the rubber. Well, as I was pushing, my hand slipped. I did not want to disappoint my dad as he had always taught me that sissy's hit with an open hand. So when my hand slipped I instinctively formed a fist......and hit my dad right in the chin.
I immediately dropped to my knees and waited for my beat down. but none followed. I guess, like the Grinch, my dads' heart grew three sizes that day.
Well, we got our limit of clams and had exited the water. I had already taken my suit off, when I turned around, and here was my dad....buck, ass, naked. It was one of those moments in a young mans' life when the thought of going blind....wasn't so bad. He he was fiddling with something stupid, no towel, no blanket, no tarp....buck, ass, naked, without a care in the world.
I instinctive did next what I believe any thirteen year old would do under similar circumstances. I tried to make a deal with God. God, I said, remember that day at the movies, when I was in the balcony making puke noises, and I ran over to the rail and spilled my coke, and everybody thought it was puke and ran out. Well, I'm really sorry about that. And I went on and on and on.
I was starting to think that God would send my dad a sign or something, when off in the distance I heard Toooooot, tooooot, tooooot! It was a train coming along the coast. Oh no, not just any train. Not a freight train, or a cattle train or a car carrying train. Oh, no no. It was one of those passenger trains. A train with those big silver cars, with big windows and people inside looking out those big windows. I glanced over at my father, still buck naked, standing there without a care in the world.
I glanced back up towards heaven. You had your chance God, wait to you see what I do next week at the fountain in town. Somebody had told me if you put dry ice and dish detergent in the fountain it would make a horrible mess.
The train was almost on us now, when this is what my dad did next...he stopped what he was doing, waived at the people as they went by, then went right back to what he was doing. Still buck, ass, naked.
All I could imagine was some buisness man having his lunch, seeing my dad, and hurling on the person in front of him. Well, atleast the day wasn't a total loss.
Yep,that was my mentor. And from that day on, I always carried a towel.
:rofl2: Great story.
