The Rocket Launch

Looking Back – The Rocket Launch

By J. Bryan Wasson

To set this story up, I must bring out the fact that I can not swim. In fact I am very much afraid of water. I believe that water is for drinking. If it is not too deep, it is OK for taking a bath. I also believe that there is something seriously wrong with the wiring in folks who ride in boats.

Another factor in this story is a deep curiosity that makes cowboys and motorcycle riders always want to know what is just over the next hill or around the next curve in the road. It is a wonderful to ride through unknown territory on horseback or mounted on a motorcycle.

Another factor in this story is my strong dislike of land development and the urban sprawl that such development brings about. I strongly believe that mankind is a very poor steward of the land that God created. Long ago, I learned that when you see fences come down that once enclosed agricultural lands adjacent to city limits, you know that bulldozers, trucks and builders will soon follow. Somehow, we call this progress.

I was a Motor Officer on the Abilene, Texas Police Department. It was the end of my shift and I was headed for home. I was riding north on the westernmost street north of the rail road tracks. I observed that the fence that had enclosed a mesquite pasture had been torn down. I knew what that meant.  This land that had been a pasture for cattle a few days earlier would soon be a housing development.

I observed a cattle trail winding westward through the mesquite. I could not resist. I jumped the curb and started down that trail.  When I was a mile or more away from the paved street, I found myself on a gentle upward slope. Shortly the slope became steeper. At the time I did not know it, but I was riding up the backside of a dam to a stock tank. Some folks outside Texas call these bodies of water, ponds, but in Texas, they are stock tanks or just plain “tanks.”

Before I knew it, I was over the crest of the dam. On the other side, it was nearly straight down. Behold, below was a great body of water. I knew immediately that I had a serious problem. I can not swim. Even if I dismounted and climbed up the embankment, the motorcycle would go in the water, which appeared to be quite deep.  How in the cat hair could I explain the loss of a police motorcycle? I put my left foot on the ground. I had my other foot on the brake peddle and was squeezing the handle of the front brake. Even so, I felt myself and the machine slowly inching down the steep embankment toward the water.

I knew that I needed help and fast. I grabbed my microphone and called for any Motor unit that was still on duty. I got no answer. All the Motor Officers except myself were probably already at home. In this case, I was not too proud to accept help from a patrol car. I could not reach any car or Headquarters by radio. It was probably because of my antenna being below the crest of this dam.

In those days motorcycles did not have electric starters. I knew that if the engine died or it I shut it off, it would be impossible to kick start the motorcycle on this steep slope. I also knew that the engine was getting hot. I was all alone and had to work this out on my own. Well, I was not completely alone, because I did some serious talking to The Lord along about then. I think it went something like this, “Lord, I got myself into this mess, now will you help me figure a way to get out?”

I dismounted and laid the motorcycle down on its side. I pivoted it around until the front was headed up hill.  I then picked the motorcycle back up and mounted again. I could feel it inching backward with both the front and rear brakes locked. I put the motorcycle into first gear and twisted the throttle wide open. I released both brakes and the clutch at the same time. The big Harley Davidson 74 Cubic inch FLH went up and over the crest of that dam like it was rocket powered.

This was one time when I was glad to see civilization and the paved streets that took me home. I decided it would be a good time to have another little talk with The Lord.

A Cowboy and A Good Reinin’ Horse

A Cowboy and A Good Reinin’ Horse

By J. Bryan Wasson

The cowboy and his horse are more than a team

They form a single unit

Without any seam

The brain of the man is connected

To the brain of the horse

By six foot ribbons of latago reins

When the hide of a cow

Meets the hide of a horse

With just whisper of a touch

On the side of the neck

The man and the horse become one

With a nudge of heel

And press of a knee

From the man on his back

Is all that it takes

For the cowboy and horse to become one

A dismounted cowboy don’t amount to much

It makes him feel

Helpless, and sort of alone and old

But give a dismounted cowboy a good reinin’ horse

And a dismounted cowboy is made whole

© Copyright 2010 by J. Bryan Wasson

The Wildwood

A great Family Tribute as well as a tribute to all Veterans. A few months ago, I had the honor of swearing my Grandson into the U.S. Army. He is now serving in Germany. --- Unrelated: I have not spent much time on the web for the last few monts due to illness. Last week, I found something on one of my Blogs that you had sent to me, but due to computer problems, I lost it. If possible, please send again. Thanks, JBW

The Birth Control Chamber

Looking Back – The Birth Control Chamber

By J. Bryan Wasson

I should call this “Looking Back” column “Looking Forward” because my mind has conceived the most brilliant birth control method of the future. The applications for this technology are limitless and go far beyond birth control. This technology could also be used as an alternative to the death penalty which should please those opposed to this type of punishment.  I call this discovery, “The Birth Control Chamber.” It could likewise be called, “The Punishment Chamber, “The Execution Chamber,” etc.

I can explain both the means by which I made this discovery and the methodology for implementation in one story:

Our great grandson, Jessie just turned eight. Our granddaughter, Tara rented the indoor swimming pool at a local motel in Decatur, Texas to have a birthday party for Jessie. The room in which this indoor swimming pool is located is rather small in comparison to many such areas that I have encountered. It is no larger than 120’ X 90’. The walls and ceiling of this swimming pool area are all of concrete and tile. The echo capabilities of such construction are self evident.

When you put 18 screaming, water splashing second graders in this confined echo chamber, the noise level is far beyond that which could be measured on any decibel reading meter or any sound system that could ever be devised by the human mind.

I believe that if any young newly wed couple were placed in this echo chamber for 45 minutes to one hour that the trauma to their central nervous system would be so disastrous that they would not have the ability to ever consider having children.

The other possible applications for this simple, extremely basic yet futuristic scientific technology are endless.

Oct. 18, 2010, JBW

Trooper Killed In Line Of Duty

This Texas Highway Patrol Car was parked in front of White Family Funeral Home
in Bowie, Texas with a single wreath on the windshield. People started adding flowers
 and small flags to the back and sides of the Patrol Car as a tribute to Texas Highway Patrol
Cpl.  David Slaton. Cpl. Slaton's body was inside the funeral under the protective and respectful eyes of two
Texas DPS State Troopers pending Funeral on Sept. 24, 2010 at First Baptist Church, Bowie.

The above composite photo is a tribute to my friend, Highway Patrol Cpl David Slaton. Cpl. Slaton died Sept. 20, 2010 as he responded to a complaint of cows on the road on U.S. Highway 81. His shift was to end in one hour. He had talked to his wife on the phone about 20 minutes earlier and said, "If I don't get those cows off the road, someone is going to get killed." His Patrol car struck a cow  which knocked the Patrol car into the path of an 118 wheeler on this narrow two lane highway. He was the friendliest guy I ever met, yet tough as nails when necessary. I was Chief of Police when he came to to Bowie as his first and only duty station after graduating from the DPS Academy. He met a girl, Lynetta Boudreaux, that was a Bowie Police Department Dispatcher.  I had hired Lynetta not long before David came to Bowie. Love and marriage followed for David and Lynetta. David and Lynetta had one son, Bo who is a college student.

My wife took a number of photos of the Highway Patrol car  parked in front of the Funeral Home with its' wreaths, flowers, and flags. It was a cloudy day. As we drove away from the funeral home, I spotted the Texas flag flying in the distance against a cloudy sky background. I asked my wife to stop and take a photo of it. This flag seemed to me to be a fitting tribute to a fallen Texas State Trooper. I added more clouds to the sky and made the above composite photograph as a tribute to my friend. 

I Love you Lynetta, Bo and, LaVelle. I am sorry that I did not get to know David's parents.