When I was 16, some of my buddies called me up to go coon hunting. It was dark and raining. And, too lazy to tromp through the timbers, I suggested we look through some of the neighbors' barns. Because I was the only one with a driver's license, I knew that I had to drive. I also knew

that we wouldn’t all fit into our pickup, so I took my parent's sedan. They all piled in, muddy boots and all.

I had brought a couple of flashlights and one guy had a .22 rifle. We then drove around the neighborhood stopping at places we knew. Permission was usually granted, but always with the stern warning, “Now, don’t you go shootin' no holes in my roof.” “Oh no, we would never do nothin' that stupid.” Then we’d enter the barn and scramble up the ladders,

swinging our flashlights to and fro. I don’t ever remember getting any coons this way, but we had a lot of fun swinging on the rope and trying to knock each other off the ladder and such.

After having gone through our third barn, we decided to call it quits and headed for the car. Someone put the rifle between the two guys to my right, and as he was closing the door, I asked, “Did you check that gun to make sure it’s unloaded? They both bent over to check and the gun went off. Yikes! I knew no one was hurt because they were below the end of the barrel and it was pointed straight up, but it took me quite a while to calm everyone down.

One by one I dropped them off, and then it was my turn to freak out. What am I gonna do? I pulled it into the tool shed and prayed to God that no one would come out. There was a mushroom-shaped hole

about a half-inch tall right in the middle of the roof. Because the vinyl clad metal was flexible, I couldn’t flatten it out with a hammer, nor could I fold it over with pliers. In a panic, I looked around the shop for something, anything, that might get me out of this mess. Then I saw it — a bucket of

white barn paint. The car was dark green, so, with just a dab from a stick, there I had it — waterproof bird poop.

The next day at school my buddies were all over me, “Did ya get into a lot

of trouble?” “Don’t worry guys, I got it covered." It was two years until my brother came up to me and said “What’d ya shoot a hole in the old man's car for?” We pulled a lot of stupid stunts when we were young, but that one never fails to make me chuckle.