Some memories are created through more interesting experiences. I am thinking particularly of the Summer of 1980. We traveled back to the midwest for competition. While there we did the usual sight-seeing (Football hall of fame and an Amish town for the first time), a day spent at an amusement park (Cedar Point, Sandusky Ohio) and then homewards.
On the way home we stopped in a long forgotten town in Iowa. We were able to take showers, swim and have a wonderful treat of grilled steak and potatoes. While at this stop, some of the young men in the corps were making comments about some of the local young women. One comment was overheard by a boyfriend of one of these young women and drunken offense was taken by him. This "Hells Angels Wannabe" decided to round up some of his equally drunken friends and defend his girlfriends honor, or just start a drunken brawl to make the evening more entertaining.
The adults with us recognized this as being a bad thing and somehow managed to get us all packed up, on the buses and headed out of town as quickly as greased lightening. Well, unfortunately the offended young men were able to stumble to their motorcycles and take out after us just as quickly.
Picture this, two 1958 touring buses and one "on it's last legs" motor home (fondly referred to as the Roach Coach) being chased down a lonely highway in Iowa on a clear and balmy evening in August by 8 motorcycles.
I will say this for the young men chasing us, they were persistent. They would take turns dodging in and out of the buses in the attempt to intimidate us with drunken heroics. After about an hour, one by one these young men dropped out of this futile chase until one lone biker was left still chasing and trying to do who knows what. This young man was just not giving up and the bus drivers were getting more and more concerned. Chatter was going back and forth between the three vehicles trying to devise a way to convince this (I use the term loosely) gentleman to cease the chase.
One feature of the 1958 buses that not many folk know about is a wonderful little "dump" button for the septic tank, conveniently located to the left of the drivers seat. Now by this time we had been traveling almost a month on these buses. Our drivers stopped often enough at rest stops that the toilets on the buses did not often get used, therefor the tank had not been emptied since we left home. After three weeks, 48 teens, and 4 adults that tank was pretty damn full.
A brief discussion ensued on the CB's, resulting in a command from our director, Dump the Tank. For several seconds the only thing seen out the back windows of the bus was a wall of liquid and solid human waste showering the young man on the motorcycle (he had been tailgating us at the time). He brought his bike to an immediate halt and we all fancied we heard screams of disgust following us for the next half hour.
I would have been VERY interested to see what happened and what he said when he returned to his friends.....