A weekend destination for many in Inglis and the out-lying areas of the Levy county. A boy here could earn his soda money by keeping score for the weekend horseshoe match or selling his sister's Girl Scout cookies. And if he didn't pay attention, he could very easily get bit by a cotton mouth water moccasin, chased by a hungry backwater gator, or teased by some drunk old coot. The summers were too good to be true, catching stump-knockers on bread balls in the scorching blue afternoon and counting coots, the birds -- not the drunks, in their awkward take-offs and graceful flights. The two-plays-for-a-quarter juke box held The Oak Ridge Boys and Eddie Rabbit, which weren't too scratchy. On a good night there would be a local band on this local stage. Music for the people, by the people... the band would pull a kid out of the audience to work the thimbles on the washboard. And that rockabilly would shake the dusty mounted fish lining the walls with their cracked bravado of years past, and Carl and Marty and Schmitty would crack open them cans of Old Milwaukee and the cue ball would snap on the break and the hot breeze would rustle the pine trees and slam the screen door, and you almost couldn't hear the trucks without mufflers, banging their rusty doors and pinging that old Circle-K gasoline as they drove up in the dusky backwater hours.