In the 70's my grandpa and I were going salmon fishing at the mouth of the Satsop. We were launching the boat when he gives it a big push and I didn't have the rope. Boat and motor end up in the middle of the river. Lucky for us it was high tide so there wasn't much current. While I'm running up to the parking lot to see if anybody's around, he roots around in the truck and finds a spare rod with a spinner tied on, casts out into the boat, hooks the seat, and reels it in.

Another time my grandpa, grandma, brother and I are trolling around the outlet at Lake Quinault. Chris and I hear grandma say "what's that say?" and on the west point of the outlet we see a big plywood sign that somebody spray painted in big letters "lick my balls". We still laugh about that one.