I told James B that I’d relate a story about skinny dipping. When I was a young adult, my sister, my cousins and I used to skinny dip every so often. We started when we were teenagers. It was I, my sister, my two male cousins and one cousin’s wife. We were skinny dipping in my cousin’s pool in Bradenton, but we decided to drive out to the island to swim in the gulf. It was about 11 o’clock at night. All of us piled into the station wagon and drove. Just at the entrance to Cortez Bridge to Bradenton Beach there was a hitch hiker. We stopped, he jumped in without looking. We started across the bridge, and he turned to look at us, five buck naked people. His eyes got real big and he started shaking a little. We just talked like it was absolutely the normal thing to go. Asked him how he was doing, how far he was going, etc. He didn’t say a thing. As we reached the other side he says “This is where I get off! I gotta go!” He was out of that car like poop out of a goose. What good times I had when I was young.

I killed this one. It didn’t appear.