Racing

Some of you know that I am a Nascar fan. I'm not a huge fan. I've never even been to a Sprint Cup race. But, I do follow the racing somewhat. We have been to Kentucky Speedway to see the Busch Series race twice (now known as the Nationwide Series). We have also been to several other tracks to see some racing, including Myrtle Beach Speedway, Winchester Speedway, Shadybowl Speedway, Eldora Speedway, Indianapolis and O'Reilly.

In October, 2004, I had the drive of a lifetime, when I strapped into a 600 horsepower racecar at Kentucky Speedway, driving for Dale Jarrett Racing Adventure. Here, in my own words, is the experience as I recalled it.

Local Man Takes Drive of a Lifetime
By: Lowell J. Lavy
Most mornings when I get up, I get into my black ‘97 Geo Metro and head for work at Wholesale Carpet Outlet in Gettysburg. I pull out onto Rt. 127, push the accelerator to the floor, and in just a few short minutes I am up to my cruising speed of 55 mph. On Oct. 9, 2004, however, it was an entirely different situation. I had signed up to race at the Kentucky Speedway with Dale Jarrett Racing Adventures.

When I was much younger, my brother owned a 1967 GTO, and one time we went extremely fast. I don’t know if there is a statute of limitations on speeding so I won’t get any more specific than that. Besides, my dad may be reading this. One thing is certain- that Goat could move! However, this did not prepare me for what was about to happen.

Kentucky Speedway is located about forty miles from Cincinnati on I-71, near Sparta, Ky. The 1.5-mile tri-oval hosts several races each year, including the Nascar Busch Series in June. It is situated in rolling hills on a one thousand acre plot, ninety-seven of which are located in the infield.

On Saturday, Oct. 9, after spending the night at my daughters’ apartment in Erlanger, Ky., we drove to the track. After arriving at about 7:30 A.M., I registered, and then I had to be at the drivers’ meeting at 8:00. Here, they went over the track layout, introduced us to our spotters (who would actually be riding with us), and went over the rules. They kept it interesting and humorous, even getting one of the participants to admit to being a Jeff Gordon fan. They assured him it was something he would grow out of.

Immediately after class, we were instructed to go to pit road. There, eight cars were lined up – seven Tauruses and one Monte Carlo. Everyone had to take a van ride around the track for several laps so that the acceleration and deceleration points could be identified. Then, it was back to pit road to wait my turn.

There were thirty-nine drivers that morning, and I was about two thirds of the way down the list. As it got closer to my turn, I got into my fire suit and was fitted with a Hutchins device—a safety apparatus to keep your head from being tossed around in case of an accident. After selecting a helmet from the pit wall, I was ready!

When there were just a few drivers left before my turn, they put the number of the car I would be driving beside my name. It was the 7 car, a blue and white Monte Carlo. Soon it was my turn, and I made my way across pit road to the racecar. It was easier than I expected to slide into the fifteen-inch window opening and down into the racing seat. They buckled me in tightly so that I could barely move my body or head. After popping the steering wheel in place, they fired up the 600+ horsepower engine. On command from my spotter, I put it in gear and soon we were rolling down the 2800-foot pit road, at about 55 mph. A left turn at the end put us on a narrow entrance road, and when we got around the curve we were out on the apron of the backstretch. I quickly accelerated and my spotter instructed me to go up onto the 70-foot wide racing surface. Then it was through turns 3 and 4, and onto the 1662-foot front straightaway through the tri-oval to take the green flag for ten racing laps.

I was off the gas as instructed at turn 1, then down to turn 2 and back on the gas, down the 1600-foot backstretch, and then once again into turns 3 and 4, which are banked at 14 degrees. Then it was down the front straightaway and across the finish line to begin lap two.

According to the telemetry information provided to me on CD, my top speed was 139.5 mph. They told us that the record for holding your breath at Kentucky Speedway was six laps; I may have been close to that. Fortunately, there were only four or five cars at a time on the track, so there was not a lot of close racing. It is also fortunate that I am forty-five years old, and too old to change professions, because that is a lot of fun! This was real white-knuckle, heart-racing action, and I’ll never forget the experience. Tomorrow, I think I’ll climb in the window of my Geo and see if it will do any better!

I have changed jobs since then, and I am now happily employed at Creative Carpets in Greenville. Coincidentally, my boss, Jack Curry, also participated in the racing adventure at Kentucky. Brent, Danette and Jason joined me for a racecar driving experience at Myrtle Beach Speedway, last year on vacation. That was a nice drive around a one-half mile track.

Thanks for reading. See you next time.

Mushrooms

When I was only a twinkle in my dad's eye, the Lavy family went to Northern Michigan in May, 1958. They were in search of the elusive morel, also known as a sponge mushroom. They are a delicacy in many people's opinion. When they found bags full of morels, this became a yearly trip and when I got big enough to know what was happening, I became a mushroom hunter.

In the 1970's, Dutch Elm disease devastated the American Elm population. For some reason, an elm that was dead for a few years produced morels. In those years, we would hunt in the woods mainly by looking for the next dead elm. At times we would find dozens of mushrooms around one tree. In some years we would come home with more than 3,000 in just a couple of day's hunting time. As the elm trees began to fall, mushrooms seemed to decrease in number. Since very few elms remain, we have had to adjust our hunting areas.

When we hunt now, we are looking for ash trees. Certain ash trees that are healthy are now morel producers. There a lot of variables that go into finding them, however. The ground cover is important along with soil and moisture. Temperatures are also quite important. A lot of things need to line up to make for a good mushrooming year.

A few years ago, Brent and I decided to go to Michigan and see if we could hit the jackpot. We didn't, but we found enough to have some meals of mushrooms and pork chops, and we brought a few home. In another year, Danette joined us for the trip. Then, Grandpa Lavy went north with Wayne, Lauren, Paul and me. Last year, just Grandpa and I went. So, it has come full circle. Grandpa got me hooked about fifty years ago, and now I have taken him to Wolverine, Michigan to hit the woods.

Danette, Ally, Jamie and I found 54 in a woods near our house last week. Finding them here gets you excited about finding the really big ones in Michigan. Here they were 2-3 inches in height. Up north, they can grow to 5 or 6 inches and bigger.

We have some tentative plans to go north in a few weeks. Time will tell if we will be able to take Grandpa to the north woods one more time.

From The Hymnal

I am confident I am as guilty as anyone else, but recently I thought of how easy it is to listen to hymns without really paying attention to the words. I think I was watching David Phelps singing the following hymn when I was reminded of that fact. Would you read or sing these words with me and remind yourself to really comprehend the message?

There is a fountain filled with blood

Drawn from Immanuel's veins

And sinners plunged beneath that flood

Lose all their guilty stains

The dying thief rejoiced to see

That fountain in his day

And there may I though vile as he

Wash all my sins away

Dear dying Lamb,Thy precious blood

Shall never lose its power

'Til all the ransomed Church of God

Be saved to sin no more

E'er since by faith, I saw the stream

Thy flowing wounds supply

Redeeming love has been my theme

And shall be 'til I die

Then in a nobler, sweeter song

I'll sing Thy power to save

When this poor, lisping, stamm'ring tongue

Lies silent in the grave

There are a hundred other songs with just as powerful a message as that. If you are like me, you have heard them repeatedly at church. Once in a while, the message just jumps out at you in a wonderful way. If you would like, leave a comment and a favorite song title that you may recall from years ago...or from yesterday.

Honey, Water and Fire

Want to hear about my three brushes with disaster? No? Too bad, you're already reading and now you are hooked. Only one was truly too close for comfort, but all three were interesting.

Grandpa and I were across the creek at his house cleaning up brush. Merrill had built a small building there, and there was a pile of lumber. Remember the song that was sung by The Edwards Trio many years ago? It went something like this, "When the Canaanites hardened their hearts against God And grieved him because of their sin God sent along hornets to bring them to task And to help His own people to win The hornets persuaded them that it was best To go quickly and not to go slow They did not compel them to go against their will They just made them willing to go If a nest of live hornets were brought to this room And the creatures allowed to go free You would not need urging to make yourself scarce You'd want to get out don't you see? They would not lay hold and by force of their might Throw you out of the window, oh no They would not compel you to go against your will They would just make you willing to go!" Just understand this...Grandpa and I were the Canaanites that day. And, you know what? It is best to go quickly and not to go slow! We jumped into the same creek that Grandma and I nearly drowned in (see previous blog about fishing). Grandpa twisted an ankle getting into the creek, and he was also stung twenty or thirty times. However, we both survived.

Not too long after that episode, the creek rose to flood stage. Normally, Painter Creek is a peaceful stream, maybe three feet deep in its deepest parts, six inches in other areas. When it floods, it can be eight to ten feet deep. Grandpa and I were on the bridge that Gene Shields helped him put across the creek. The water was rushing mere inches from the bottom of the bridge. A large piece of wood that Grandpa thought could be used for firewood was floating toward the bridge. I grabbed an oar from our famous boat and attempted to stop the piece of wood. The force of the floating wood came too close to flipping me off the bridge into the water. Between bees and firewood, Grandpa and I had quite the experiences around the creek.

Everyone knows that you should NEVER throw gasoline on a fire, right? I know that, too. And, I wouldn't do it. But, the week before Kim Lavy Marshall's wedding, I was burning brush here at my home. I know you are thinking, "What a dummy he was!" But, just listen and tell me where you know that I went wrong. I had a fire going. It went out and was no longer burning at all. Approximately, five to ten feet away, I stacked a bunch of brush. I got the gas can from the garage ( I hear you, there is where I went wrong!) and poured a large quantity of gas on the pile of brush. After soaking it, I turned around, walked away a few feet to set the can down. Behind me, the brush pile exploded into flame! The only explanation is that the fumes from the gas I had poured travelled along the ground to where the previous fire was. Enough heat remained to ignite the fumes, and the Lord was watching out for me is all I can say about that. If it had exploded while I was pouring, you wouldn't be reading my blog!

Thanks for reading. See you next time.

He Won What?!

I have known Phil Collingsworth for a long time. Many years ago, I sold him his first car. It was a bright blue 1976 Chrysler Cordoba. Now, this was way back, before those gray streaks started showing in Phil's hair. Of course, he might say that this was back when I had hair. That was a special car of mine. It was my honeymoon car. I am married to his sister, Rena, and we drove it to Gatlinburg in 1980. Now, he has paid me back many times over, by allowing me to drive his bus, Big Red, occasionally.

Phil has always been a city boy. He was raised in Dayton, Ohio, lived in Cincinnati and then Indianapolis. Then it was on to Rabbit Hash, Kentucky. So, it has always been the big city for him! Last year, we drove to Pennsylvania for a concert. We were making our way through the picturesque countryside, when Phil spotted a farmer out in the field beside the road. He was kneeling at the back of a cow lying in the grass. He said, "Lowell, pull this bus over to the side of the road." Phil jumped out, climbed the fence and went over to the farmer. He asked if there was something he could do to help. The farmer told him to grab hold of the little leg that was protruding from the cow and help pull! In a short while, a beautiful new calf was born. Phil was in awe, and the farmer asked if he could pay Phil for assisting. Phil, being the helpful man that he is, declined but said, "I do have one question. About how fast do you suppose that calf was going when he ran into the back of that cow?" I did say he was a city boy, didn't I?

OK, maybe some of that was not exactly accurate. The truth is that he grew up in Dayton, Ohio, and he entered a contest at WFCJ radio. They were giving away several gospel albums. This reminded me of my good friend Daniel Downing, who entered a similar contest in Cincinnati. They announced that the third caller would win the prize. Dan called. First caller, sorry. He redialed. Second caller, sorry. Once again he dialed. He won! But, I digress. Guess who won all those albums! I forget how many there were. Twenty-five or maybe fifty. There were a bunch of them. And, now look who is producing recordings today.

We are very proud of The Collingsworth Family. I know Grandma and Grandpa Collingsworth were very proud of them before they left us. It is easy to be proud of them when you see them singing on stage with gospel greats like Bill Gaither, Ben Speer, The Talleys, Lynda Randle and all the others. We were watching a live Gaither production on Daystar. Russ Taff was singing. As he finished, Bill came to the microphone and began the introduction for the next group. He said, "We'll start with the mother." And, Phil's wife, Kim came to the piano to play "How Great Thou Art" in front of the thousands at the Dallas-Ft Worth Gaither Concert. Next, Phil, Brooklyn, Courtney, Phillip and Olivia joined her on stage and sang "Not The Same". They are making a splash in the Southern Gospel Music world. If you haven't noticed, you will soon, if you are paying attention.

If you are interested, ask me about the windshield wiper problems on our last trip from Texas. Quite the picture I have in my mind - looking out the windshield at Phil with his hands thrown in the air and a look of confusion on his face.

Check out "thecollingsworthfamily.com" for pictures and info if you are not familiar with this group.

Fishing

Grandma Lavy and I were the only survivors of the boating accident that took place on Painter Creek many years ago. We were on board a fishing craft that was trying to dock. When it sank, we were able to save ourselves by flopping around in the six-inch deep water until we could get to our feet. Actually, no one else was on board the USS Lavy for that expedition. We sailed on the creek behind Grandpa's house in search of the great carp that live in those waters.

When I was about twelve, G and G Lavy and I went to supper at Gene and Mary Shields' house. Somehow the conversation got around to their Florida fishing trips, and Mary invited me to go with them. Fortunately, Grandpa loved to travel, so it was fairly easy to get him in the mood. For several years after that, we went to Ft. Myers, Florida yearly in February.

Fishing in the Gulf of Mexico is slightly different than Painter Creek fishing. We would fish in 50-60 feet of water, bouncing our shrimp-baited hooks off the bottom as we drifted. When a grouper, sheephead or red snapper hit, you had your work cut out for you pulling him to the surface. It was a great feeling to land them in the boat. On the way back to the marina, Gene would pull over to an island where he would fillet the fish and throw the scraps to the pelicans.

A few times we would tie up at an island, jump out of the boat and fish while wading in the surf. One of the most memorable times was when Bill Kuhnle and I stood next to each other in the surf while fishing for snook. I hooked a nice one and reeled him in. I think it was about a 24-inch fish. Those silver fish with a black stripe down the side are among the most delicious salt-water fish I've ever tasted (you should try a fried fish feast prepared by a pro like Mary Shields after an all-day fishing trip).

My fish looked like something out of Painter Creek next to the one Bill brought in right beside me. It was thirty-six inches long and I could put my fist in its mouth. Then, it was back in the boat and in to Four Winds Marina. Perhaps that night we had some blowfish and sheephead livers to add to the snook and snapper. What a feast it was!

Thanks, Grandpa, for taking me to Florida in February and providing me with some great memories. I came back to school with a suntan in the middle of winter. Gene and Mary are gone now, I believe. They were a big part of those memories, also.

Lezah Einnaf Snilloc

What a neat lady she was! Many of you never knew her. She died in about 1977 or 1978. I called her Lezah Snilloc, but her name was really Hazel Collins. She was Grandma Lavy's cousin, and I think she was a big reason why Grandma and Grandpa are Christians today. When you think about it, that is pretty important as you look at their family and the fact that most are followers of Christ.

Hazel lived in Pleasant Hill, Ohio. We lived in her house a few years after she died. But, it wasn't the first time I had been in that house. I stayed with her different times when Grandma and Grandpa were away. She was a short little lady, and as kind as anyone could be. I wrestled with her when I was a kid, and once she fell off the couch. She laughed as only she could, and warned me that the neighbors would hear.

She had a one-of-a-kind testimony in church. She was the kind of person that any pastor would want in their pew. I doubt if she had an unkind word for anyone.

She went to Michigan to go mushroom hunting with us. She would get tickled and laugh with us. She went with us to New Mexico to see Geneva when she was out at a mission hospital. She was a big part of our family, though she had no immediate family of her own.

Uncle Cyrl found her in her room when he went to pick her up for church one Sunday morning in May, if I remember correctly. I got my first speeding ticket coming home from Cincinnati for her funeral. I think she is buried north of Pleasant Hill at Sugar Grove. I'll never forget her.

I woke up this morning thinking of dear old Hazel Fannie Collins. Thanks, Hazel, for inviting Victor and Doris to church many years ago.

The Playhouse Theater

Mom, Ally, Dudley and I headed for the hallway. It sounded like a train was headed for the house. Limbs were pelting the siding, and we heard some unidentified thumps. After a few minutes the winds calmed and we were safe. We didn't know it until the next morning, but an old friend had left us during the storm.

Behind our garage sat the Playhouse Theater. It has been there longer than we have lived here. It was just an old outbuilding, used for storage. But, it was much more than that. I understand that our cautious kids used to jump from its roof when we were at work. We found out long afterwards that BJ nearly killed himself while jumping off. The girls assured him that he was fine (certain that they would be in big trouble if he wasn't).

My long-time enemy/friend, Chester Beatty came up one evening, and we treated the kids to a one-of-a-kind production of Laurel and Hardy. You can only guess who was Laurel and who was Hardy. I will only tell you this much - Chester was the one who got stuck halfway out one of the windows! And, so the Playhouse Theater was christened.

You would have to ask the LavyKids about what other things transpired inside those hallowed walls. Once, Remax found that a nest of bees had been built in one of the chairs. Fortunately, this was after Chester and I had performed there. That would certainly have livened up the show!

When I walked out the door the other morning, I could see the roof upside down at the back of the garage. The powerful storm had literally picked the playhouse up and turned it over, smashing it beyond repair. In an ironic twist, Regi had e-mailed me that very day, submitting some memories about the playhouse, and even asking for photos. Imagine her surprise when she found out that their very cherished friend had been destroyed.

Now that I think about it, I believe Chester was Laurel because he could cry just like Stanley. Anyhow, I think Ashley, Becky, Regi, BJ, Dani, Ally and even Esther and Rena thought we were absolutely, positively NUTS!

Cousins, Brothers and Enemies

Cousins first. I was about fourteen. I rode home from our country church with Cousin Dean. We had a lot of snow and over on Red River West Grove Road there was a drift that was too high to go through. So, we backed up and went around the other way to Byrely Road. The drifts were nearly as bad there. But, Dean was driving "Heber". Heber was Dean's first car, inherited from his grandpa, Heber. Seems like it was a '61 Ford Fairlane or some such powerful animal. With some fine driving we plowed through the drifts and since we were young and intellectual giants, we decided if Heber could make it through those drifts, he could surely make it through the drifts on RRWG Road. We went around to that road, now driving north (meaning away from home), and putting the pedal to the metal we plunged through the drifts like a snow plow. Shoot, even snow plows get stuck sometimes! The thing with snow plows is, they don't have to call Uncle Cyrl late at night when it is 15 degrees and blowing snow. He had to get on his tractor and drive about 4 miles in the bitter cold to rescue Dean, Lowell and Heber. If you knew Uncle Cyrl, you know I can't repeat everything he said that night. He never let us forget it. And, true to his style, he finally got his revenge. The day we buried him was bitterly cold, and the wind cut through us like a knife as we stood around the tent and sang "Shall We Gather At The River". And Dean and I recalled a night many years ago...

Brother! Oh, Merrill is nice enough, I guess, but years ago when I was small and helpless, I was invited up to his room. There he was on his bed on all fours acting like an ape. I think Don was the zookeeper, and I was to be the poor person who had to feed the ape popcorn! The ape nearly took my arm off when I reached through the bars to feed him! He hasn't changed all that much, but I just keep my distance now.

Lastly, enemies. When I first met Chuck, a.k.a. Charles, a.k.a. Chester, it was a frightening day for me. We were in Covington, Ohio, at Rick Beatty's wedding reception. I was attempting to decorate Rick's car when I was attacked by his little brother, Chester. "Leave my brother's car alone!" was the command. And so a new friendship was formed between Chester and me. Now, I consider him a very close friend. And, the story might be a little exaggerated as things tend to be over time. With enemies like Chester, who needs friends?

Scared?

When Rena was about seven months pregnant with Regi, we took a trip to Mammoth Cave. It was to be our last getaway before KIDS. We went to the wax museum. We rode the Alpine Slide. We toured the cave. Then we went to our very first Haunted House. We thought we would never find our way out. When Rena gets hurt or scared, she generally starts laughing. Did I mention she was seven months pregnant? Who knew that we should have packed the Depends?!

While we are on the haunted house subject, there is a nice one in Wisconsin Dells. That's where we found ourselves on family vacation a few years ago. Momma went down the swimming pool slide for her first and last time. Her sunglasses floated to the top before she did! But, that's another story. We walked downtown to the haunted house. BJ had his cool new T-shirt with an eagle on the front. Famous last words have a way of coming back to haunt...Before going in to the scary place, he pointed to his eagle and said, "This thing isn't scared of anything!" Fortunately, he was a lot smaller than he is now, or he would have killed me hanging on to my neck like that on the way through the house!

Oh, yeah, Dave H. and the CRAZY cat. There I was, peacefully sleeping in our Dayton house soon after we were married. The phone rang. It was the Hilligoss household, located just a few blocks away. It seems that a CAT had gotten into Dave and Connie's bedroom in the middle of the night, and they needed assistance. In minutes we were there to find Dave chasing something around the bedroom. To be quite honest with you, I never did see that cat. I think he was hallucinating. No, I'm kidding. That stupid cat was crazy and running berserk all over the place. It was under the bed and then in the window behind the curtains. That was when we all thought we were crazy, because when Dave moved the curtains there was NO cat! It appeared from somewhere, and Dave clubbed it with a crutch that he kept handy to beat Connie into submission when necessary. Were we scared? No, we were brave throughout the whole ordeal!

One last thing...If you are looking for a pleasant evening, and you are in Gatlinburg, I recommend Ripley's Haunted Adventure. You can relax on the walk through the old Grimms and Reaper Mortuary. I think they have Depends for sale across the street at the drugstore.

Remember?

Somebody, probably Uncle Phil, started rhyming everything when talking. For instance, he might say, "Look at the snow, Mo". That led to the most famous statement ever voiced by none other than Grandma Collingsworth, when a peanut fell on the floor. The words never forgotten by the Collingsworth family are here for your viewing pleasure, "Pick up the nut, Butt". We never let her live it down.

Anyone ever watched "America's Funniest Videos"? Of course, you don't usually have the video camera going when you should, or 'most everyone could "get it on camera and get it in cash". I have missed a few winners in the past. A friend of ours, who shall go unnamed, was playing softball at West Milton Campground. She ripped a double into right field, and unfortunately attempted to turn it into a triple. Halfway to third the skirt hit the ground and the triple was not to be!

Remax, our ancient dog, who, by the way, was supposed to pass away before any more dogs were added to the household (how did Dudley get here?) would have provided us with a $10,000 prize as one of the funniest videos. But, alas, we did not have the camcorder running. Uncle Merrill installed a new fence for us when we first became horseowners. Somehow, we forgot to inform Remax about the new obstacle between the house and the barn. The next day he ran to the barn as usual. Have you ever seen a three-foot-long dog with his snout stuffed two feet through a fence? He hit the fence at high speed, but he was none the worse for wear. He still lives on, in spite of Ally's grim assessment that he has three feet in the grave and the other on a banana peel. She thinks if he goes away, she can get Dudley II.

Regi remembers being tossed high into the air by Dad when she was little. She was pretty fearless. One cloudy day, after throwing her high into the air, it began raining. So, from that day on, I didn't throw her quite as high.

That's all for now. Send me memories if you have some come to mind.

Do You Remember When...?

It is time for a few memories from Memory Lane. I plan to devote some blogs to remembering. It will probably be a lot of disconnected happenings that get noted. If you are reading these, and have a memory that I was associated with and would remember, leave a comment or tell me and we will try to expound upon it if it would be a proper thing to do and wouldn't harm too many innocent bystanders!

Many of the memorable times that I spent in Cincinnati are connected to Craig Dahler and cannot really be discussed in public. You would have to contact him and find out more about the time he made a carload of guys mad at him and me. If there was trouble around, it seems that Craig and I were together. I think it was mostly him that was the trouble magnet.

Regi remembers Dad playing Spin-o-rama, a crazy game, thought up by Dad, that involved spinning a lightweight ball in the air to one kid after another until someone missed it. It continued until all but one "Grand Champion" remained. The Grand Champion would then receive "the BIG prize" - that no one has ever really received yet!

And, don't forget "The Trap Game", in which, one by one, the kids would become trapped in Dad's hand and have to figure out the magic button on Dad to push and get released. It could be his nose or elbow or knee or big toe or left ear. It was very educational!

Last memory of this session...remember how Dudley loved to go see Grandpa Coddaword (that's Collingsworth, but Regi liked to pronounce it Coddaword, or Dad made that up, too, I'm not sure which is true). Anyway, he loved to travel to Noblesville, where he would hurriedly peepee in the yard after the long trip and then gallop to their patio door - he knew which one - and rush into meet Grandpa and Grandma. Some times he would jump onto the bed and go to sleep with Grandpa. Now, he goes to visit Grandma and Grandpa Lavy at the Home where they live.

That's it until next time. Maybe one of those Dahler stories will be able to be told. Paul Clemens was a part of one big-time problem that I recall, too. Something about oranges being thrown at on-coming cars. But, I don't think Paul would be involved with that, do you?