Do you remember the streaking craze that took place back in the early ‘70’s?  If memory serves me correctly, streaking also inspired it’s anatomical side-kick, mooning and both became the butt of lots of jokes (sorry, I couldn’t resist).

Did you ever witness a streaker?  Did you ever get mooned?  How about both? I’d be really interested in hearing your most unique streaking story, if you have one.  Here’s mine.

Back in the summer of ’74, right as the streaking phase was hitting its peak, I was spending the summer in East Tennessee.  One of the families at my aunt and uncles church had access to a beautiful, rustic cabin in an idyllic cove on Watts Bar Lake.  This family decided to take a bunch of us kids to this cabin for several days of boating, skiing, campfires and fishing.  In spite of the mosquitoes, we were having the time of our life. 

One afternoon, we were occupying ourselves in some way, form or fashion at the cabin when I heard the sound of a boat engine at high rev and a bunch of the kids making a commotion.  When I turned around to see what the fuss was all about, there he was, in all of his glory: A streaker! And not just any streaker, mind you, but a skiing streaker! 

The temptation is mighty great to insert one liners her about the wind, the waves and the tow line but I’ll resist. 

My cousin, Linda, had the presence of mind, being the oldest of us kids, to grab the keys to our boat and encourage all to run for the boat and follow this guy.

I’m 100% sure her motives were pure.

We piled in the boat just as the object of nautical nudity completed the turnaround in the cove and was being towed back out towards the main part of the lake.  Linda fired up the boat and we were in hot pursuit.

Again, I’m tempted to joke about what else was waving besides the water and the streakers hair, but I’ll resist.  Needless to say, however, he did grace us with the perpetual vertical smile as he faced his accomplices in the boat that was towing him.

We tailed this guy as he “tailed” us, trailing by about 50 yards or so.  It appeared to all of us that they were quite enjoying the thrill of the chase. 

I’m not exactly sure what thrill Linda was enjoying but one can imagine.

After about 15 to 20 minutes of hot pursuit, the fleshly flasher and his band of merry men made the mistake of turning in to a cove that wasn’t quite as wide as the cove we were vacationing in.  Either that or one of the boat docks was a wee bit too far which became painfully evident as they made their turn at the backend of the cove.

As any of you who have skied, or watched people ski, know, when a boat makes a turn, the skier typically makes the same turn but at a much farther radius than the boat. As this boat turned, “Mr. Wavy” made the same but wider turn and was faced with a long boat dock with no way of avoiding it. 

Well, the guy may have left his clothes behind but not his quick thinking.  When faced with the prospect of splinters in all the wrong places, he let go of the tow line, fell to his side as he slid under the dock.

We immediately stopped to see if he was okay (Linda being the kind, compassionate soul that she is).  He was apparently okay but I suspect that he endured the worst application of a lake water enema than he ever imagined could have existed.

With so much retro fashion coming back into vogue and classic rock never having been out of style, I am a bit surprised that the streaking craze hasn’t returned for a visit. 

It’s probably because it’s not anything that can be sold.