If I recall this particular trip correctly, I was 17 years old, school had just let out for the year, and our weekend canoe trip had been canceled.
In those days, though, you couldn't drive to the Party Spot.
You had to either float to it or hike down from Whitewater Creek Road in northwest Atlanta.
" as they took cranium-cracking dives into shallow water. The most entertaining thing to do today was people watch.
On most runs down the Hooch, we'd stop about a mile in at a place called Diving Rock. The river turns sharply right when it hits a high ridge formed by something called the Brevard Fault.
We'd lash our beat-up aluminum boats to the top of my dad's Dodge Dart or Ted's mom's Buick Skylark.