When I was about 15 and Sis was around 10 we decided to go out in my brothers boat. This is something that we were expressly forbidden to do under any circumstances. We sneaked down to the river giggling the whole way and as quietly as possible put the boat into the river. She got in first and with a mighty push I jumped in and settled into the seat.
Laughing we started to look around for the oars. There weren’t any! Here we were floating down the mighty Guyandotte River with no oars! There wasn’t even anything that we could pretend were oars! In a panic we started to use our hands. We weren’t so afraid of floating downriver (even though the rapids were about 1 mile away), as we were terrified of getting caught out in that boat!
We managed to get to shore about a 1/2 mile down river. Now we had to figure out how to get the boat back without getting caught. We dragged that boat up the river to the house through knee deep mud and nothing but wild brush on the river bank. I can’t count the times we fell down, but we made it. We were worn out from fighting the current and covered in sopping wet, sticky, black river mud, but we made it.
To this day we both will bust out laughing when we talk about “that time we stole the boat” and nobody still knows about it.