I would drive from Athens to Holzer Medical Center for an hour—50 minutes on a good day—down Route 689 through Wilkesville to Route 160 through Vinton. It was twisty and winding and up and down—a lot of fun in my little Fiat X1/9.  One Spring, there was a lot of flooding in the area.  At Vinton is Raccoon Creek, which eventually flows into the Ohio River.  You just pass through this little town of a few hundred people and then cross a bridge over Raccoon Creek.  On this occasion, the creek had overflowed its banks and covered up a good stretch of the road leading to the bridge.  The local constable was parked on the side, watching some cars and trucks go through the water to the bridge.  I slowed down and watched them, as well.  The water seemed deep.  The vehicles kicked up a pretty good wake as they drove through it.  I was hesitant.  But I saw those guys made it OK, so I guessed I could, too.  I left dry land and headed toward the bridge.  I only got a few feet when I felt Raccoon Creek hitting the bottom of my little Fiat—and there was still a long ways to go.  In that instant I had a vision of me and my Fiat bobbing down Raccoon Creek.  I put it in reverse sooooo fast and got back to the safety of dry land.

I pulled up alongside the constable.  (We had seen each other many days on my way to and from work.  In fact, on one occasion he had pulled me over to warn me not to speed through town.)  I rolled down my window to speak to him.  He said, “Son, I’m glad you didn’t try that.”  I said, “Me, too”.  I asked for his advice on a route around the flooding, and was soon on my way—much drier than I would have been earlier.