The summer of 1996, Dad and I criss-crossed the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay on Talisman multiple times to attend boat festivals.  The weather was brutal, gale after gale - a Force 6 was a pleasant day.  The wind was always on the nose, and Dad said we could predict the wind direction simply by knowing which direction we needed to go.  We pounded away, bruised, tired, wet, cold, and so salty we that we crunched when we moved. 

One afternoon we finally had a break - just sunshine and a nice breeze.  Dad took advantage of the time to take a much needed nap on deck.  The first pigeon came aboard in the early afternoon.  As exhausted as we were, it circled the boat, whacked into the main and flopped onto Dad's face.  End of nap!  The second joined us a little later.  We put them in an open carton on deck to keep them safe.  The third tried unsucessfully to land on the varnished boom gallows and slipped into the cockpit near his comrades.   Our weather luck went back to the usual, and the pigeons soon were soaked. We put the box below under the ladder to keep them warm.  They were cozy, but occasionally we caught the edge of the box on the way down the ladder and flipped them out.

In the evening I was on watch.  The wind had picked up and we were really moving.  The water poured in the hawsepipe and sloshed down the boat.  The long thin fish came in with the water, and washed out the back.  The boat continued to pick up speed, and eventually one fish didn't wash back out.  I tried to get him over the side, but he was too slippery and slapped away on the deck.  Exhausted, salty and wet, I finally hit my limit and started to giggle.  Dad swore I did my Daaayyyyd cry that I used when things were getting out of hand.  Maybe I did since we were really hurtling forward, but all I remember was laughing uncontrollably.  Dad marched up the ladder, adjusted the sails to slow us down, flipped the fish overboard and muttered "God damned Noah's Ark!" as he marched back down the ladder. It took everything I had to stiffle the next round of laughter as I heard him scrambling after the scattered pigeons. 

Dad dusted crops for the Cherry brothers out of Robinsville, New Jersey.  His very first flight was spraying a liquid cargo.  This requires two planes flying in a configuration that allows each pilot to see the end of his partner's run so that he knows where to start his pass.
Curtis Cerry had a 1000lb load but put only 500lbs in Dad's plane,owing to his lack of experience.
Dad took off and was watching Curtis take off as he circled the strip.  It attracted Dad's attention that Curtis didn't seem to have much speed as he neared the midpoint of the runway.  It surprised him when Curtis began dumping his load rather that abort.
Curtis got off the ground, but never cleared the slope of the hill at the end of the runway. He crashed through the apple orchard on the side of the hill.  Dad landed and jumped into the truck with the others to see if Curtis was okay(and to get the wreck cleared out before there were any witnesses). As they approached the site, Dad's only comment was "I bet that's the only time you will ever find a Cherry under an apple tree." 

Bob: D'ya know what happens if you put a J3  Cub into a nose dive, kill the motor, and let go of the stick?
Ted: Gee, no Dad.
Bob: She'll come out of the dive on her own.........upside down.
Ted: And how might you know this?
Bob: Guess.