Pat has always been a big, strong, gentle man and a lot of fun to be around. He and I were first cousins...our dads were brothers. I grew up near Fort Worth so about the only times we got to spend together was summer vacations at our grandmother's house. One year when we were about 10 or 11, they took us to a neighborhood carnival...the kind that went from town to town packing up all their rides between stops. They had a rickety old roller coaster and Pat wanted to ride since he'd never been on one before. I didn't want to but he talked me into it. Remember, they weren't big on safety precautions back then, and all that was holding us in was a little bar that locked when it was closed. I knew from the minute I climbed in that I wasn't going to enjoy this ride but Pat was excited...until the car started moving. The faster it got, the more he decided he wanted out. He tried to unlock that bar so he could jump out before we got to any big drops. I knew this wasn't a good idea so I was trying to keep the bar shut while he was thrashing around and fighting me to open it and get out. Meanwhile, everytime we went around a curve, I could hear the scaffolding creaking below us. When the ride finally ended and we were safely back on the ground, he told everyone it was fun. I often wondered if he ever rode a roller coaster after that or ever thought about trying to jump out of one. I'll miss you, Cousin!