Back in the early 70's there was a place on Lake Erie, at Barcelona, New York where they had the best smoked whitefish you could ever ask for. It would just melt in your mouth. The car would smell of the smoked fish for days after, but, it was rare for any of the fish to make it home.
We were coming home from such an excursion, driving down old Rte. 17, almost to Snug Harbor when I noticed a truck coming up behind us at a breakneck rate of speed. I really thought he was going to run right into us, but at the last second he whipped out around and fishtailed down the road. My wife made the comment that he must be drunk. I'd seen him in the rearview mirror, and he didn't look drunk to me. he was hanging onto the steering wheel with both hands and had his head down almost on the wheel.
"I don't think he's drunk, but he sure has a problem of some kind." I said.
He barely got straightened out again when he slammed on the brakes and skidded down Snug Harbor road on the left.
I didn't know at the time, but we were to meet again a couple years later.
Back in the early 1970's, Citizen Band radio was becoming really big. They used to joke that they were even selling them in the barber shops. We got one too, and then found a local CB club to join. We got to know a lot of nice people. There was a man that called himself "Mustang" who seemed to be on the radio all the time. His voice was unmistakable. It sounded like gravel rolling down a washboard. He and another fellow named Frank had some of the more intelligent conversations on the air. We were at a club meeting one night and I overheard a couple people saying that "Mustang" was going to be there that night. I made a comment that I'd sure like to meet him. I was told, "Not a problem."
His real name was Frank Snyder, his wife was named Ann. They were the nicest people you will ever meet. They were probably in their early 60's. Frank had to retire when he had a serious stroke.
It was Frank that had almost run into us on the road that day. He had left work feeling bad, (he was having a stroke), and his one aim in life was to get home. Ann said later she saw him pull in the drive and wondered why he was home early. He pulled into the garage and crashed right through the back wall. He opened the door and fell out onto the ground. "Call 911! There's something terrible wrong!" he gasped.
The stroke left him paralyzed on one side and he couldn't talk. The Doctors told him he probably would never walk or talk again.
Frank let the Doctors know in no uncertain terms, "You just watch! I'm NOT dead yet!"
He bought a CB radio so he could practice talking, and used his weak almost paralyzed hand to key the mike. The CB handle "Mustang" fit Frank to a "T" !
Frank and I hit it off from the start, and became good friends. We even shared the same birthday, although he was nearly twice my age. I'd drive up to Snug Harbor to visit them almost every week.
Two friends of ours were studying to get their Ham Radio licenses because CB was getting too crowded and wild. Frank and I talked it over and decided to give it a try.
Back then there was 5 classes of Ham license. Novice, Technician, General, Advanced and for the really sharp, Amateur Extra. The first and easiest license being the Novice. It was a relatively easy written test, mostly rules and regulations, so we wouldn't do anything illegal, and a 5 words per minute Morse Code test. If a person can copy code at all, they are doing 5 wpm. The nicest part was that the local Ham club had classes going on and the tests were given by a voluntary examiner. Otherwise we would have to go to the nearest FCC office, which was 60 miles away in Buffalo, NY.
Soon Frank and I were cluttering up the airwaves with Morse code, the only privileges Novice had. Novice was only good for 1 year, and we had to upgrade to Technician or start over again. With Tech we would have some voice privileges. Frank and I got some books and started studying. Soon we were making trips to the FCC office in Buffalo. Within the year both Frank and I were Techs. One day Frank told me he wanted to try for the General License. The General was the same test as for Tech, and the one we had would carry over, but we would have to pass a 13 word per minute Morse code test. This could be a problem for "Mustang".
One of the lingering effects of the stroke was if he got under too much stress, his mind would just go blank. Ann and I both tried to dissuade him, but he had made up his mind. When he did that he went from being "Mustang" to being "Mule"!
So, we started studying again and making almost monthly trips to Buffalo. "Mustang" would do fine at home, but the stress of the testing room would get to him and he would lose it.
After about the fourth trip, Frank was really getting depressed. We all were, but, he wasn't about to give up. "I AM going to do this!" became his sacred motto. Ann asked me one night, "Jim, do you think Frank can do this? He's getting so depressed"
I told her, "I don't know, Ann, but I'll keep taking him just as long as he wants to go. Look at it this way, there are just a few questions on the test, and the law of averages says he has to "guess" them right sooner or later."
The next trip to Buffalo, I passed the code test for Amateur Extra, but missed the written test. Frank missed the General code test again. On the way home, we decided to give it one more shot. My code test certificate was good for one year. We would go home and study for 6 or 8 months and then come back. Win, lose or draw, that would end it.
Many months later at the appointed time we were in Buffalo. I finished my test and when I got the results there was one wrong answer too many. "Are you sure?" I asked.
"Yes", they said, they had counted them 3 times.
"Ok", I thought walking down the hall, "Now, how did Frank do? Oh please Lord, let him pass this time."
Just down the hall there he came. His head was down and he was just shuffling along. "Oh no! He missed again!"
He got about ten feet away and just ran and jumped on me!
"I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it!" He shouted as he jumped up and down.
That was one of the happiest days in Franks life, and in mine also!
Frank Snyder, "Mustang" was an inspiration to everyone who knew him.
From Frank we should learn, we are only as handicapped as we allow ourselves to be. We have a God who loves us and looks out for us and sometimes grants us a little favor.
Frank, "Mustang" wherever you are, God Bless you! I love you!