My post #4 above is the sanitized version. Here is an example of other skills Scouting taught me:
When I was in 11th grade, my buddies and I were old enough to have driver's licenses. One Memorial Day weekend our troop had a 3 day camping trip. I rode to camp with my friends, John and Chris. Our transportation was John's father's brand-new-to-him very cherry 1960 VW. Lightweight camping equipment was unknown in those days. We loaded the VW with a heavy canvas tent, a Coleman stove, fat rectangular sleeping bags, and multiple cans of Dinty Moore Beef Stew.
Chris was the only one who had been to the campsite before, so he was our navigator. We drove and drove, and finally stopped along a rural road in the middle of nowhere.
"Last time," said Chris, "we hiked to the campsite on this trail through the woods. It's about half a mile up the big hill."
The prospect of carrying all our gear up the big hill was unappealing. Fortunately, Scouting had honed my powers of observation.
"It looks like this trail used to be an old road," I remarked. "All we gotta do is trim back some of this vegetation, and we can drive all the way to camp." It seemed like a good idea at the time.
While Chris and I chopped down saplings with our Official Boy Scout Hatchets, John drove the VW up the newly created road. All was well until he took a turn too fast and collided with a tree stump. The VW sustained a big dent in its right front fender.
“Omigod!” John exclaimed, “My dad’s gonna kill me!”
Chris and I assured our pal that we would not allow him to be killed. We proceeded carefully to the campsite, where we found that the rest of the troop had driven through a large stump-free pasture. By this time it was late in the afternoon. We pitched our tent and feasted on Dinty Moore Beef Stew.
In the morning we attempted to repair the car. The Official Boy Scout Hatchet is a wonderful tool, but it is not a good tool for auto body repair. Try as we might, the dent remained.
“I got an idea!” said Chris. “My parents are out of town for the three day weekend, and my dad has a complete set of body and fender tools. Let’s go to my house and fix the car!”
So that’s what we did. Next morning we hammered out the dent until the fender was perfect. We went to the VW dealer and bought a can of matching Arctic Blue spray paint.
John’s father did not find out until several years later. We were all in college, and the blue VW had been traded in for a newer model. John’s dad was chewing him out about his inability to take care of a car. John was fed up.
“Dad,” he said, “there’s something you never knew about the old blue VW…..”
