Late summer, almost back to school time. I’m thinking it may have been 1977 and I was headed for my freshman year at Culver-Stockton College. My long time friend, Rick Alspaugh, was headed to C-SC as well.
Rick and his family had owned boats for as long as I can remember, including one houseboat that must have been 30 feet long. There was an ill-fated trip on it in the summer of 1974, but that is a story for another time.
In most cases, it was a run-about ski boat, used on the Mississippi River, that we had our fun in. My hometown of Pittsfield, IL sits in Pike County. The Illinois River is 11 miles to the east, the Mississippi is 18 miles to the west. Louisiana, MO sits on the bluff across the muddy mississip.
One weekday, Rick called and invited me to go with him to the river that evening. Jeff Seymour would be joining in, and the three of us would go out, water ski, and consume beer. Rick didn’t have to twist my arm, I was in. There’s nothing better than being on the water, in the wind, moving along at speed, or being behind the boat on skis.
We arrived to find the river all but to our own, there was virtually nobody around, unlike weekends. We found the water as smooth as glass! After loading the boat and getting it in the water, we moved from the no wake zone in the marina harbor, and Rick put the hammer down, as we headed into the channel and north. Rick had a ton of boat operating hours under his belt. Even at 18, he’d been running them for six or seven years prior. Trusting his judgement was never an issue. We always wanted to have fun, but not be dangerous to ourselves or others.
Beer makes everything better on the water. Judgement improves, the boat goes faster, the smiles get wider. We had a cooler full, and that lid was being open and closed on a regular basis.
Seymour had operated the boat when Rick skied, I never was comfortable as a skipper. I rode in the front seat (also the seat for the spotter) when Seymour skied. When the three of us were in the boat, Rick operated, Jeff took the passenger seat up front, and I took a back seat near the cooler and was the bartender. I liked it back there as I’d get more wind. After we’d all had our turns on skis, but not yet ready to head back, we were challenged, “what can we do next?”
Well-lubricated at this point, Alspaugh and I presented a dare to Seymour. “We’ll bet you ten bucks you won’t ski naked under the Louisiana bridge.” Jeff jumped into the river with nothing on but a life vest and Rick pulled him under the bridge in all of his glory! Problem was,there were literally no other boats around, and only those who may have been glancing down from passing traffic on the bridge would have seen this if they were really paying attention. I didn’t have a camera to preserve the memory, and Jeff made a quick ten bucks.
The best was yet to come, we had one more trick up our sleeves. Jeff hadn’t been back in the boat long (I’m guessing the boat was 15 feet long, an inboard/outboard), when we spotted a barge, headed south, still in the channel, but almost in the evening shadow of the cliffs just north of the hotel that sits just across the bridge. We nodded at each other and Rick put us in position to move, without giving away our intentions to the barge pilot.
Are you familiar with the Beach Boys song, ‘Catch A Wave"‘? The second that barge passed, Rick moved in nearly directly behind it and we began our ride, a wild one it was! The boat was moving up and down in that wake like an amusement park ride run amuck! All of us were being tossed in the air and thrown around like rag dolls, Rick did manage to stay at the wheel. I thought I was gonna break my tailbone as I watched the cooler levitate two feet off the boat floor, then crash back down. Alspaugh and Seymour’s eyes were as wide as saucers, I’m sure mine were too. Rick later stated he thought the hull of the boat was going to crack from the impacts. We made it through, obviously needing another beer to calm down and celebrate.
The story has been recounted numerous times, including my wedding, with Rick in attendance. The photo shows me illustrating how wide Jeff and Rick’s eyes were. Nearly every time I tell this tale I laugh until I’m crying, it’s a classic.
Me, recounting the evening Rick, Jeff and I took a wild boat ride, our eyes as big as saucers.