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Webb Weekly is a family-oriented newspaper direct mailed to over 58,000 homes each week.

Webb Weekly

280 Kane St. STE #2
South Williamsport, PA
United States

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Summer of ‘98

It was the summer of 1998, and my mom, brother, and I went down to South Carolina to go to Myrtle Beach with our whole Liddick family. It was always all my aunts, uncles, Gram, and cousins all in one big beach house for a week. It was kind of a tradition when we were

It was the summer of 1998, and my mom, brother, and I went down to South Carolina to go to Myrtle Beach with our whole Liddick family.

It was always all my aunts, uncles, Gram, and cousins all in one big beach house for a week. It was kind of a tradition when we were kids. I was 13. Didn’t love the beach, but made the best of it, hitting some waves to keep cool. Still am that way, but even worse about it. As soon as my feet hit that sand, I get all pouty.

My husband witnessed this about two years ago when we were with our Liddick fam again on vacation. It’s actually kind of funny. Sand and heat just don’t mix well with me. Now, I always enjoyed vacation, but I am a homebody. Still am. Some things just don’t change. Vacations were always tough because my dad didn’t come on vacations much. Being away from him was hard. About day five or six on vacation, I would get so excited knowing we would be heading home soon. But little did I know this vacation was going to be different.

We were to start home on Sunday; it was Friday. That night around dinner time, there was a knock on the door at our vacation house. There stood a man, and he said, “Excuse me, can I borrow a cup of sugar?” It was my dad! Oh my gosh, the excitement I had that day I will never forget. We were all so surprised. He rode his motorcycle down to see us. Clear from good ol’ Williamsport! That night we all went for ice cream, and then as a family walked on the beach together that night. I love the beach at night when it’s cooler, and crabs aren’t running all over making you worried you may lose a toe. Man, I am picky about the beach aren’t I!? Dang. Guess I was just born a freshwater girl. A river rat. Give me that river muck any day!

So, the next morning we found out there was this storm rolling in from the coast. It was going to hit sometime that day, and lead to bad weather for the weekend heading up the north coast. Dad decided since he had the bike, he needed to leave, like now. Good God, I don’t even know how his tushy had time to recoup from the first trip! Of course, I wanted to go with my dad and had jeans and sneakers to wear on the bike, and a helmet, because he figured his girl would want to ride home anyways with him. I mean, I lost a day on that glorious beach (HA!) but gained a day on a motorcycle with just me and dad, and this memory I’ll carry with me forever.

That Saturday, as we rode home up the coast, it was just black behind us the whole way. We would stop to get gas, go to the bathroom quickly to stretch our legs, and left. We didn’t want to get soaked. Dad got me some Pringles to munch on mid-morning at a gas station so he could get ahead of this storm. Yeah, I ate them through my helmet visor. We were finally able to swing into a McDonald’s a few hours later, and Dad got me a double cheeseburger, fries, and a drink. I held the drink in between my legs and popped that cheeseburger in and out of my helmet as best I could. Man, this was awesome. Making memories on the Yamaha 850 Special. That sucker had a high-backed seat. Comfy as ever. I would hand Dad some French fries as we were heading through Virginia. Still black behind us, but we were staying ahead of it. The Pringles and McDonald’s satisfied me enough until we got into PA. I loved the BLTs at the Ranch House right off Rt. 15. It was my and Dad’s spot when we traveled that way. That night we stopped in for dinner; we were far ahead enough from the storm that we could sit, eat, and stretch our bodies out. By this time, it was getting dark, but we knew the hard part of the travel was over. Harrisburg to Willpo? Piece of cake! We got back on the road, and riding along the river, we got hit with so many bugs it was unreal! Our helmets and jackets were just covered in bug splat. So much for a piece of cake. When we finally got home, we were beat, but we made it! The rain stayed away from Central PA that next day, and Dad and I hung around the pool and got to eat lunch without eating through a helmet. Mom called us; they were on their way home. I’ll never forget her saying, “Boy I wish we were home!” They had that long trip we just did on a motorcycle, in one day, beating that storm that dad and I will never forget. With Father’s Day coming up, I wanted to share this story with you. A memory I will forever cherish, riding up the coast at 13 years old with dear old dad. I am so blessed to have a Father who gave me so many wonderful memories, and still does. He was always full of surprises and made things so special. I love that he gave me the love for motorcycles instead of beaches and river muck instead of sand. I am so glad he made that trip that summer of ‘98 — Happy Father’s Day to all you wonderful dads out there.

Baked Steak

Take a Round Steak and cut into fist size chunks. Season with salt and pepper on each side, generously. Heat oil in a frying pan, and dip your steak into flour. Fry just until the outside gets brown. Place steak into a casserole dish and top with onions. Bake at 350’ for 2 hours, or until wanted desire. (Cover with foil, and poke holes in for the steam to come out.)One hour before it’s done, you can also place some carrots in with it, makes for a great tasting veggie!

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