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Folly Beach, SC
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Folly Beach, SC
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My family drove from Ft. Knox, KY to Folly Beach for a vacation nearly 50 years ago. Along the way we stopped for gas at an old gas station in the middle of nowhere.
My dad couldn’t get the pump working so he walked around the garage looking for someone to help. Seconds later he came running back around the building with a German shepherd in hot pursuit.
He screamed at my mom to open the car door, which she did, and dad dove into the car practically head-first. The dog managed to get a good chomp on his left calf before he was able get fully into the car.
We managed to make it to SC the next day. My dad had several puncture wounds in his calf, but having served two tours in Vietnam relatively recently he wasn’t overly bothered by it. He waded out into the surf at Folly Beach about waist high and let the water and waves splash against him. He swore that the salt water helped soothe and heal the dog bite.
My dad was a serious fisherman and hunter, so of course he had to catch something at the beach. I don’t recall how he did it, but he managed to catch a crapload of crabs. He had a large plastic trashcan that he was using to collect all the crabs, and he’d caught dozens.
My brothers and I were standing by the bin, admiring the crabs, when a large wave came in and crashed just in front of the trashcan, knocking it over. There was suddenly a mass escape of crabs all around us and we went screaming for the sand dunes, trying not to step on them or get pinched. My dad frantically tried to corral his catch back into the bin — it was mayhem!
IIRC he managed to recapture more than enough for us to have a crab feast that night.
I’ll never forget the scene of my dad chasing a battalion of crabs scurrying all over Folly Beach with a bunch of puncture wounds in his leg while we all squealed in mock terror and delight.
Looks like a painting!