Flat Tire
One time as Mother was driving from Old Ocean toward West Columbia we had a flat tire. Bobby, Peggy and I were with her. Pop was not along. Bobby was always good at doing mechanical things. Without hesitation he opened the trunk of the car and got out the jack and spare tire. In his hand he had the tool to take the hubcap off the wheel, and approached the flat tire. Suddenly I ran at him and hit him with a diving tackle, knocking him to the ground. He was ready to hit me when I pointed at the flat tire. It was resting on a large, writhing rattlesnake with its fangs bared. He killed the snake, and Mother drove the car forward a bit to get away from it so Bobby could change the tire. It had been a scary moment!