1970 Vint Hill Farms Station, US Army base, Virginia

Sunday afternoon and we’re all sitting in the EM (Enlisted Men’s) club. Virginia had blue laws on Sunday and almost everything is closed everywhere, and certainly there is no drinking. One of the guys said, “You know West Virginia is wide open on Sundays.” We all gave this statement an intense five-minute conversation and then loaded up in the car and headed the West Virginia.

There were four of us twenty-something year old army guys riding in the drivers relatively new Studebaker Marlin two-door. He loved this car. It was his pride and joy. Personally, I thought it kind of sucked.

It took us about 2 hours to cross the state line into West Virginia. As soon as we crossed, we stopped at the 1st highway store to stock up for the rest of the trip. We bought a variety of potato chips, Fritos, Cheetos, Vienna sausage and other health foods. We also bought a bottle of Jack Daniels.

The clerk said that if we were looking to party, we should head to Elkins. It would be about another 2 hours across the Shenandoah mountains, but it was worth the trip. It was coal mining country with a lot of bars and loose women. So, we took off down the winding two-Lane road through the mountains heading for a Sunday afternoon good time in West Virginia.

Windows down and radio blasting we tore open our bags of goodies and cracked open the bottle of whiskey. After 20 minutes we finished all the goodies and the bottle of whiskey was half empty. One of the guys in the back seat still had a can of quartered peaches which he had bought back at the store for some unknown reason. He opened the can with his handy army P-38 can opener and was eating the quartered beaches one at a time. He would tilt his head back and drop the quartered peach in his mouth like he was swallowing a goldfish and then take a snort from the bottle of whiskey. He thought he was funny. He finished his can of peaches about the same time that we all finished the bottle of whisky.

We all settled into the drive on the windy road leaning left and right as we went around endless corners through the mountains on our way to Elkins, West Virginia.

I was in the shotgun seat and I heard that noise people make right before they're going to get sick.  You know it’s kind of a combination hiccup and burp noise. “Urk, urk.”

The driver heard it too at the same time and looking in the rearview mirror saw that the peach boy was getting ready to vomit.

“Goddamn it don't throw up in the car I'll pull off to the side of the road.” the driver yelled. I looked back over the seat and the Peach boy was struggling not to have an accident in the car. He had his hand clamped over his mouth and was gagging pretty bad. I could tell that he was not going to win this contest.

The mountain road was too tight pull off to the side, so the driver speeded up trying desperately to find a wide spot to stop in.

Peach boy was losing it. Hand still clamped over his mouth, his eyes got big as an owl and his cheeks puffed up. The driver yelled at him to hold on as the car raced down the mountain road.

Then the most amazing thing that I have ever seen happen. Beach boy now had both hands over his mouth, cheeks puffed out and his eyes bulging. He was making noises I didn't know anybody could make. His chest was heaving when an entire quarter peach blew out of his nose. The peach shot over the front seat and smacked into the dashboard. The driver pulled off the road and parked on the shoulder and we all bailed out of the car.

The three of us this just stood there watching peach boy in total amazement.

Then we started to giggle. The giggles turned into laughter and the laughter turned into howling. I was laughing so hard I was crying.

Nobody wanted to pick up that quarter peach off the front seat of the car. That was peach boy’s job.

Finally, we made a U-turn and headed back home to Virginia.