My father, my mother and I were in a large new car which my father had recently purchased; we were sitting beside the Gallia County Farmhouse, looking out over Symmes Creek at the bottom of the hill in front of the Farmhouse.

My father was busily reviewing some papers which he was holding in his hands, financial papers of a company which he had owned and recently sold. He was murmuring to himself that $30,000 seemed to be missing. I couldn't tell whether he had lost the money in the transaction when he had sold the business, or whether someone who had worked for him (before he had sold the business) had made off with the money. I wasn't particularly interested.

As I looked out over the creek, I noticed some large pieces of lumber floating downstream. I figured the pieces of lumber might be boards from the Farmhouse, boards which my father had thrown into the creek. Since the Farmhouse was still standing intact beside us, however, I was uncertain where the boards had come from. Before I could ask about the boards, the car suddenly started rolling down the hill, and in a flash, crashed into the creek.

All the windows were rolled up, and the car remained afloat on top of the water. I hollered, "What happened, dad?!"

My father hollered back, "Something happened, son!"

Whatever had happened, we needed to act quickly or we would sink with the car and all be drowned. I knew before the car went under water, we needed to roll down the windows and slide out into the water. I quickly began rolling down the windows, and all three of us scrambled out into the muddy water. Fortunately I grabbed a strap which was across my mother's back and held her up, because she was sinking like a stone. Holding her on the water's surface, I swam toward the shore. It looked as if my father would be able to manage for himself.

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