I sat there and wanted to cry for my poor beloved ultralight and all I could think about was that my trip was over in total devastation and I would have to face total humiliation after advertising my journey to everybody and their dogs.  I crawled out intending to survey the damage.  My camera was still strapped to my neck and I began taking pictures.  I have absolutely no idea why but I took pictures from every angle.  Still not knowing the extent of the damage, I walked away dejected and depressed towards a barn where a tractor-trailer was turning around.

As I walked up he rolled his window down and I asked if he knew where the nearest phone was.  He looked somewhat surprised to see me come out of a watermelon patch.  He just kept looking at me trying to figure out where I came from.   He had a cellular phone but I didn't have Ralph's number.  He said, "Where you broke down at?"  I told him, "I had to put my plane down in that melon patch", as I pointed back over my shoulder to my plane.  He looked but could only see the tail sticking up over the hill.  I'm sure it looked like I buried it in the sand.  "Are you OK?", He asked.  "I'm fine but I need to borrow a phone."  "You sure you're OK", again he asked.   "Yes, I'm fine, not a scratch.  Can I borrow your phone?", I asked again as he climbed down out of his truck.  I bet he asked me 3 more times if I was OK as we walked over to look at the plane.  I hitched a ride with a very nice young lady back to Ralph's and tried to figure out what I was going to do next.  I figured a U-Haul van loaded with my bent plane was the only thing I could do.  That is, until I got to Ralph's.

About the end of 87 mogas story, when I walked up to Ralph's door and he came out asking, "Back already?"  I said, "Uh, yea, well... uh, I went down in a watermelon patch about 3 miles north of here."  The look on his face was of shear fear and apprehension.  I could read his mind, "This guy is going to sue the hell out of me for selling him bad gas!"  I quickly told him, "I think I seized the engine by letting the engine get too hot and the water temperature was way over red line when she quit."  He looked somewhat relieved but still concerned and said, "Are you OK?"  Of course I didn't get a scratch.  That first look on his face was like reading a book.  I looked right in the face of fear of liability, even though it was my choice and responsibility for taking the gas.  It really saddens me to think we've done this to fellow aviators while at the same time makes me mad that good people have to pay the price of a few people who don't take responsibility for their own actions.

I think he felt as bad about the incident as I did and he started calling people he knew for a flatbed trailer.   He suggested I call Mark and see if he could help.  The next thing I knew we had the wings off, loaded on a trailer on the way to Mark's 23 miles away for damage assessment and possible repairs.