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We covered the island from Drum Inlet to the Cape Lookout point in that 2-wheel-drive station wagon. There was a light rain as we approached the lighthouse area.  I thought the flat ground of the old air strip would be an easier drive. It was, except for some low areas covered by water. We went through some shallow water OK.  As we approached a major body of water, I had two choices. I could stop or I could gain enough speed to get across.  I was determined to not be stuck in the middle. So I gunned it.  Water flew everywhere. The guys thought I was nuts. They were right.  With no air cleaner, the water poured through the carburetor.  The engine quit, but we coasted through to tiara firma.  It took about an hour to remove the spark plugs and pump out enough water to refire the engine.  H.M. thought my stunt was dumber than what he did in the outhouse.  That debate goes on.
We caught a few fish on that 1975 trip, but the overall experience overshadowed the fishing.  I don't know if this is what psychologists call male bonding.  Whatever it was very powerful.  The four of us continued to fish together for many years.  We were the last group to stay in dad's cabin.
Dad went on a day trip to remove a few personal items just before the Park Service burned the cabin. There were a lot of negative feelings in those days between the old time fishermen and the new owners, the National Park Service. The environmental movement was strengthening nationwide. Some of the press made statements about squatters' cabins on the island. They implied that people such as my dad had done something illegal; that they had constructed cabins on government property. Rubbish. Sterling Dixon had a 10-year lease on the camp site from the private land owner with options for 10-year extensions when the cabin was built.  Sterling in turn granted a gentlemen's agreement to allow the cabin to be constructed. His word was as good as gold. My dad and his friends were not the law-breaker type.  They were all respected citizens, pillars of the community. They just liked to get away from it all and do some surf fishing. They saw the Park Service as taking away something that rightfully be

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There were a lot of negative feelings in those days between the old time fishermen and the new owners, the National Park Service.

an old air compressor.  The wiring traced across the low ceiling to what was left of a knife blade switch. I found the screwdriver used to replicate the blade of the switch. The compressor kicked in and I put some air into the bare tube. We took it to the dock and submerged it in the bay water to test the patch. Soon the spare was ready.  Meantime my buddies had located another spare that would fit the Chevy. We went fishing feeling good having two spare tires.
Whatever satisfaction H.M. won in the battery ordeal was lost in the outhouse. Our outhouse was a simple wood frame structure with a tin roof and tin siding. Some of the siding was rusted through by 1975, but the wooden door still was in good condition. The most important part of the outhouse, the throne, was stored in the cabin. It was simply a wooden straight back chair with the cane bottom removed. In place of the cane was a toilet seat held in place with small finishing nails.  H.M. suddenly needed to go to the little house after dinner the first night. It was his first time there and I did not think about giving him any instructions. He took the throne and ran to the outhouse. H.M. had on a tee shirt, shorts and his favorite boots. He had a habit of not lacing his boots, so the tops were rather open. In his haste H.M. assumed that our facility included a "front splash guard" that it did not. He sat there just as if he was in the comfort of his home.  When he returned to the cabin, he washed his boots and told us what happened. He continued to complain about the design of the throne as the cabin filled with our laughter. 
Mosquitoes like H.M. and Raymond. Their blood is sweeter than mine or maybe they just like to expose more of their skin. The first morning they looked out the small window on the east end to see the sunrise. They claimed the mosquitoes were so thick on the screen that they could not even see the sun.  When I said it's time to go fishing, they looked at each other like lambs going to slaughter.