Our family often shared a beach house rental with my Uncle Dan’s family. On this particular year our drive to the beach we were split up into the ‘boys’ car and the ‘girls’ car (my sisters’ idea). The Moms and girls rode in the air conditioned sedan, while the ‘boys’ were in our old station wagon. Dad and my Uncle Dan rode up front with my teen cousins in the back seat. My youngest cousin ‘Pete’ and I rode in the ‘way-back’ of the station wagon. It was hot with no air conditioning but OK when all the windows were rolled down.
Pete and I entertained ourselves making faces at the other drivers and pumping our arms to get the trucks to blow their horns. Then we stopped at a roadside picnic area for lunch and some running around. It was during that stop that Pete and l collected several handfuls of pebbles and put them in our pockets.
Back on the road again, Pete and I invented a game where we’d push one pebble at a time off the tailgate sill and count the number of bounces it made. I was leading in that game when a car came up to pass our car and caught a high bouncing pebble on their windshield. That car zoomed up and paralleled our car and the irate driver honked and shouted something over to Uncle Dan.
Pete and I knew we were ‘in for it’ when Uncle Dan slowed down and slowed to a stop on the roadside. Dad and Uncle Dan got out and came round the back of the car. Dad told us that the other driver said we were throwing rocks at cars. Pete and I frantically tried to explain that: One, they weren’t really ‘rocks’, they were just these little pebbles; and Two, we weren’t ‘throwing them’, just letting them drop from the sill of the tailgate. Those nuances of distinction were lost to our angry Dads.
Uncle Dan lowered the tailgate and ordered us out of the car while Dad went to retrieve the paddle that was always stashed under the drivers seat for occasions such as this. The older cousins got out to watch the show that was about to begin.
As car after car whizzed by, Uncle Dan sat down on the open tailgate and pulled Pete up, put him across his knee and pulled off his swim trunks (which left him naked.) Dad passed him the paddle which began to rain down on Pete's butt as he kicked and cried. Based on Dad's grip of my hand I knew I should expect the same.
When Uncle Dan was finished paddling Pete, Pete was told to climb get back into the car. Uncle Dan then handed the paddle to Dad saying “Your turn.”
Dad lifted me up and stood me up on the tailgate. I stood there pleading for leniency as Dad began to unfasten my shorts. As my shorts dropped to my bare feet a car came to a quick stop behind us. It was the ‘girls’ car. Dad looked back but returned his attention to me as Uncle Dan walked back to explain what was going on. Now my Mom, Aunt, sisters and cousins would be on hand to see me paddled through the windshield in air conditioned comfort.
Dad wasted no time in pulling down my underpants before taking a seat on the tailgate. He then ordered me across his lap as he picked up the paddle.
Dad wasted no time delivering a memorable paddling that left me gasping for air. When Dad was finished, he sent me to join my red faced and red bottomed cousin. Dad then closed the tailgate and to our feeble protests, rolled up the back window. It was a hot, unpleasant trip the rest of the way.