The people at the ABC store wouldn't accept it either.

Roland took a hammer of the table and smashed the watch.  "Now it won't worry you anymore."

Before Roland got his plane, he had a boat that he and Dad frequently went fishing with down on the coast.  Once the three of us went to Morehead City fishing.  Our Happy Hour usually began about 11 a.m.  On Sunday, on the way back to shore, Dad decided to go into "Maggie's Cabin" (his name for the cramped boat cabin) and take a nap.  Roland always drove the boat and when he reached shore and pulled it up on the trailer, Dad was still asleep so we let him be.  We were sipping a little and actually forgot about Dad until a car passed us, blowing his horn and pointing back to the boat.  Dad was awful mad about that and wouldn't speak to us the rest of the trip. 

We all went fishing a lot and would fly down to the coast and land on the beach where the sand was wet and packed well enough to support the plane.  Once I took off in the 172 and waited for Roland and Dad to take off.  Roland's old plane was conventional gear and the sun had softened the sand so that when he started forward, the nose tipped over and the metal prop dug into the sand.  Some nearby fishermen helped pull the plane over to hard ground and they took off.  When he got up to me he motioned that I follow him and we landed at an old closed down WWII army field at Morehead City.  Roland said that the bent prop was causing too much vibration.  He got his wrenches out, took the prop off, laid it on the pavement and jumped up and down on it until he was satisfied it was straight. He put the prop on, and he and Dad took off and flew back to Wilson.