S. S. Tocomc and the Chattahoochee Raft Race

S. S. Tocomc and the Chattahoochee Raft Race

A Poem by R. S. Morris

Made acrylic bathtubs for the home.
Breathing fiberglass all day long.
A nasty job by all standards.
They were heavy, sturdy and strong.

The tubs keep coming.
The conveyor line never stops.
Never get a small break.
At least 90º in the shop.

On the radio, talk of a raft race.
Chattahoochee raft race is in town.
Really a chance to get away from,
the line of tubs that never slow down.

Me and my buddies worked together.
Didn't really think this thing through.
S.S. Tocomc was christened,
and us three idiots became the crew.

The raft built from a broken tub.
A base constructed to walk around.
S.S. Tocomc painted on the side.
It weighed about a thousand pounds.

The morning of our departure.
Used a fork lift to get on the truck.
No thought how to get it in water,
just relying on plain old dumb luck.

Forgot to register S. S. Tocomc.
Starting line was off limits to us.
Two miles to the alternate and parked
next to ten hippies in a Volkswagon bus.

Took an hour to get off the truck.
I wish I had just gone to the mall.
Finally in water and drifting.
With no way too steer it at all.

Two hours of wandering downstream.
Getting close to the finish line.
Supposed to cut right, we went left,
so much for our pathetic design.

Bye bye to all in the race,
no idea where we'd wind up.
A branch hit Mike, in cold water he fell,
along with his beer filled solo red cup.

Had to pull him in by his sneakers.
Thought he was going to drown.
This trip becoming a nightmare.
Trees and water, no one else was around.

We heard rough water ahead.
Getting louder and louder the sound.
We panicked and jumped overboard.
Swam to the bank and sat down.

First time it turned when we wanted.
We wound up on ground unexplored.
The raft parked itself on dry land.
and we were not even on board.

Sunburned, tired and hungry.
Hiked for the next several hours.
When will this day ever end?
Walking through sun and rain showers.

A cool dude in a pickup drove by.
Offered us a ride and some lunch.
I had no idea where our truck was.
He was a river rat and had a hunch.

Finally got home around midnight,
In bed and slept like a brick.
Swore never to do this again.
Hasta la huego, S.S. Tocomc.

© 2019 R. S. Morris

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Added on February 11, 2019
Last Updated on February 23, 2019