From the writers at Columbia Daily Tribune.
The moment I laid eyes on that worn-out old camper, I knew she had to be mine. Her beauty surely wasn’t apparent to most passersby, but without taking a second look I knew she was exactly what I had been looking for. Her potential was endless and her price was affordable.
She was a 1972 16-foot Scotty Sportsman with flaking paint and a number of noticeable dents. Half the windows didn’t work and the interior was worn, at best. She hadn’t moved in years. Then one day, the old farmer who’d owned her finally decided to drag her out from behind the barn and slap a for-sale sign in the front window. His timing was perfect. My cousin, Derek, and I split the $500. It was one of the greatest buys of my life.
We named her Delilah Jones. It stemmed from the lyrics of the song “Brown-Eyed Women” by the Grateful Dead. At the time, Derek and I were both students at Purdue University. We had grown up hunting together with Derek’s dad, my Uncle Tom, serving as our shared mentor.
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