In 1958, dad was once again enrolled in summer school. It was the second year of going to Greeley Colorado. That year we towed our 14 foot boat with a 15 horse Evinrude outboard motor so we were able to pack a lot more things. I got to take a few more toys and also my bicycle. We had a lot more room in the boat than we did with the utility trailer. The trailer we rented to live in the second year was a lot larger, and it had two doors that opened on the right side instead of just one. We were no longer in the parking area we were in the previous year. We were in a parking area that was much larger but had the same style of restroom and laundry room. The people in the trailer next to us were friends and they had a trailer of equal size but their trailer had an additional door that opened up on the opposite side from the main door. My parents and their friends had a big tarp up between the trailers to provide shade and a pseudo living space between the trailers. This was basically used as a common area as there was a couch and some chairs.

The first year we were in Greeley, dad had found employment helping to build antenna towers for broadcasting. It was part time and allowed him to keep his summer school class schedule. The second year, he got a job driving truck for a petroleum hauling company based in Greeley. My father taught in middle school and high school during the school year and drove truck during the summers. He had driven logging trucks when he returned to Goldendale from the Navy after World War II and had also driven before enlisting in the Navy. That’s how he started driving truck. Later on, he drove for extra money during the summers after he started his teaching career. In Greeley, he was basically on call with the petroleum hauling company and the company typically wouldn’t call him during the day. He would mainly drive at night or weekends, and would have to occasionally turn down a driving assignment. The company he drove for knew he was there for summer school and was very cooperative. In order to take calls for work, we had to have a telephone installed. It was the only phone in the complex.

One evening he got a call to drive. He would typically drive from Greeley to Cheyenne to a refinery, then loaded to Denver, empty the load or drop the trailer, pick up an empty and then drive back to Greeley. I had not really gotten to sleep and the call came at about 10:00pm. It wasn’t a school night so he agreed to drive. I asked if I could go along. I always enjoyed riding in the trucks. They were typically conventional Kenworths or Peterbuilts and occasionally a cab over International. Most all of them had sleepers. I really wanted to go and dad said “you will have to ask your mother”. I begged her to go. She thought about it for a minute and then said “well, ok, but you’ll have to wear a diaper”. I complained and said “I don’t want to wear a diaper”. She said “either you wear a diaper or you don’t go”. Dad said, “Does he really need a diaper?” to which mom replied, “He will be riding in the truck and if he sleeps at all, the motion and vibration of the truck will probably make him wet his pants”. I said “I won’t wet my pants” to which she said once again, “you either wear a diaper or you don’t go”. I really wanted to go along so reluctantly I said “ok”. Dad said “hurry up. I need to get going”. Mom proceeded to get two cloth diapers out of the drawer, and fold them up on the bed. She then said “come over here and lay down”. I layed down on the diapers and mom pinned first one side then the other. She said “sit up” and took a pair of pull on plastic pants and shook them out and handed them to me and said “here, put these on”. I took the plastic pants, stepped into them and pulled them up and over my diapers. Then I put on my jeans. It felt funny not having regular underpants on and I was very aware that I was wearing a diaper just like my two year old sister. I could feel the plastic pants and bulk of the diapers when I put my hands in my pockets. The pocket material seemed slippery against the plastic pants. We had to go so I grabbed my pillow and dad and I left for the yard where he would get trip information and a truck assignment. While he was in the office, I was allowed to get into an International cab over and pretend like I was driving it. After he came out of the office, we got into the truck he was going to drive. He started it up and away we went headed to Cheyenne. When we got to Cheyenne, we stopped at a diner just outside of the refinery. He wasn’t really supposed to take anyone into the refinery so we had a bite to eat and he got me a chocolate milkshake. He asked the person working the counter if he would keep an eye on me and he would be back shortly to pick me up. The fellow said “sure” and dad left me to finish my milkshake and drove off to the refinery. After I finished my milkshake, I got down off of the counter stool and went over to a pinball machine. I played with the flippers for a bit and then went back and sat down at the counter. I wasn’t sure but I thought the guy behind the counter may have figured out that I was wearing a diaper. He never said anything but he looked at me kind of strangely. After a bit, dad returned and came into the diner. He said “Are you all finished with your milk shake? Let’s have you go to the bathroom before we leave”. I walked with him into the restroom and he helped me unfasten my jeans and pull my diaper down so I could pee. After I finished he helped me pull up my diaper and plastic pants and then pull my jeans up. We then went out to the truck and we drove off headed to Denver. The trip was uneventful as we headed to Denver. About a third of the way there, I decided to take a short nap since I was a bit drowsy and it was the middle of the night when I normally would be sleeping. The truck had a sleeper which was a bed surface just behind the seats and a bit above the seat backs. There was no mattress but I had my pillow and that was enough. I layed down and slept for about 30 miles. When I woke up we were still about 30 minutes away from Denver. I was moving from the sleeper to the passenger seat, and I then realized that I had an accident and wet my diaper. It wasn’t soaked but I could feel that it was definitely damp. I hesitated for a bit, but I finally decided to confess and told dad “I had an accident”. My father simply said “well then it’s a good thing you’re wearing a diaper”. I was disappointed and wondered what my mom would say when we got back. We arrived at Denver, and dropped the trailer and picked up an empty and headed back to Greeley. I never went back to sleep but I had to ride all the rest of the way wearing a wet diaper. We got to Greeley, parked the truck and got into our car and headed back across town to the trailer. It was just about sunrise. When we got back to the trailer, mom was up and said “did you have fun?” to which I replied “yes… but I had an accident”. I thought I was being mature at almost eight years old and that I was being honest about what happened. Mom’s reaction was embarrassing however as she said to dad “I knew it……. I...KNEW IT! I knew he’d wet himself!” It was almost like she was bragging and pleased about her prediction coming true. I quietly took off my diapers and plastic pants, put them in my sisters diaper pail and got some underpants out of the drawer. Then I put on my pajamas and Dad and I slept for a few hours. Nothing more was said after dad and I woke up.

This would turn out to be the last time my mother made me wear a diaper and plastic pants. Though I would rarely but randomly wet the bed, I was never again diapered for it. At the end of the second summer in Greeley, I had managed to be two for four. I had worn diapers and plastic pants on a total of four occasions in a little over a year, but against my best intentions, I wound up being wet twice. For a while, I managed to suppress the memories of being diapered during those days and events. However, the memories of the embarrassment, humiliation and the shame I felt during that time in my life would come back vividly a few years later, along with a strange but strong compulsion to wear diapers and plastic pants. As it turned out, and much to my chagrin, the feelings would never leave me.