Pot, Gas and Dash, and Dead Heads

I have been quiet lately.  Actually I have been kind of boring.  I have sold all of my toys and my mode of transportation has been limited to a Soccer Mom style SUV-just another in the many humiliations I have had to suffer.

To break up the monotony I have been using my little Sea Ray runabout to go bar hoping on the California Delta on the weekends.  These trips are always interesting because of the people one meets and the ones you get to observe.  Someone, probably Mark Twain, said that if you turn the country on its side that everything loose would end up in California.  That is probably true and if it is, I would like to add that the ones with stories to tell  all end up in the California Delta.

So I was motoring down Fourteen Mile Slough on a typical beautiful day when my eagle eye picked up something unusual floating on the surface of the water.  There are many things floating on the surface of the water on the delta and it is unclear what made me turn back to rescue this one.  I had my boating companion, who we will call Maggie to protect her identity, pull what looked like a purse on board.  We opened it up and there were two prescription bottles in there and my first thought was that I was going to have to call the pharmacy to find out who they belonged to thereby getting me additional grace which I always seem to need.  We opened up the containers and they were both filled with big fresh buds of pot.

Now, I did not really know what they were since I have had no experience with pot but Maggie said it was pot and it smelled like garbage so it probably was.  I sealed the containers back up, put then back in the purse and threw it over board where I had found it.  As I told that story throughout the rest of the day I kept getting YOU DID WHAT! response from whoever I was telling it to.  They were incredulous that I threw it away.  But with my luck I would be the last person in California arrested for holding pot.  There is every indication that it will be legal soon, but why take the chance.

So I continued to the gas dock to get the day’s needed fuel. It was busy, with big cruisers taking on many hundreds of dollars of fuel. I got in line to wait my turn.  A large Carver pulled away after fueling  and the Dock Guy, who we will call Cliff to protect his identity, asked his coworker how much he had charged the skipper of the Carver.  His response was $382.  Cliff got a little white and said ‘no’ it was suppose to be one thousand and 382 dollars as the gas pump had flipped over once.

So Cliff came down to my boat and hopped on to go track down the gas and dash skipper.  We caught up with him shortly as big cruisers don’t travel very fast.  We hailed the skipper and explained the situation.  He admitted that he had not looked at his charge card slip and then through some clever maneuvering we got his charge card from his wife.  Then it was back to the gas dock where I took on my needed fuel, Cliff charged a thousand dollars to the skippers card, forged his signature, and then gave the card back to me to deliver it back to the skipper who was still motoring out.  We caught him quickly , returned his card, and got one last apology for the mistake.  So I am sure I got extra grace for that.

Then the afternoon was filled with searching for the coldest beer, the best calamari, and the oddest character.  As we were heading up the Mokolume River (you don’t know how to spell ‘mokolume’ either-no one does) my eagle eyes picked up a head floating on the water.  Now I had had a few beers and knew that it was not a human head, but after the day I had been having why take a chance.  We were on a very deserted part of the river with no other boats around, so having a person in the water was not a likely option. Then the floating head went underwater and did not come back up. Oh Oh. So I motored slowly to where it went down and just about then the head, now apparently attached to a guy, came to the surface.  We asked if he was okay and he said he was fine.  About then a boat came around the bend and slowed down to pick this guy up.  It seems they were mad at him for losing their pot and had thrown him overboard.



Filed under Stories

2 responses to “Pot, Gas and Dash, and Dead Heads

  1. Bob,

    I would have thrown the pot back also…which may be just another confirmation that you are nuts.

    Have you got a new Spyder on order, wassup?



    • Bob

      I am looking for another ride but so far have not found the perfect one. In the mean time I am fixing my garage up just in case. But I put a beer opener in it yesterday and that has slowed things down a lot.


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