Only God: A Collection of True Stories.

By Nick Nichols

Stories Inside . . .

Blind Man Sailing

It Truly Was Amazing Grace

Bankrupt . . . but Blessed!

The Killing of My Best Friend

Drippy Nose and China

Big Backyard Bomb

Manager from Hell and WHOOSH!!

Did God Call My Cell Phone?

The Boat Dock

Bonus Stories . . .

Sold Our Home on the R-A-D-I-O

Not by Sight

3 Angels 3 Encounters 3 Blessings

The Thing Behind the Curtain

God Spoke, and I Looked in the Bushes!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Nichols
• Release date: Feb 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201005474

Nick Nichols

Nick Nichols was born on June 30, 1961, in Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. Educated at Wayne County High School and Georgia State University, he graduated in 1988, with a law degree. After clerking for a trial judge from 1988 until 1990, he started a trial practice that continues. He lives in Johns Creek, a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia, with his wife, Emma, and his stepdaughter, Madeleine.

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Blind Man Sailing

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Lying in the dark in the forward berth on the portside of the sixty-five-foot schooner, Journey, the darkness and boat started me thinking about my blind friend Allen and our last sail together.  Allen lost his sight in his thirties, and I met him twenty years later at the agency where I worked.  Allen had his own business, running the agency vending machines.  I loved Allen; he was a straight shooter with a great sense of humor.

He was also smart!  One year he ranked third in the nation in the blind chess national championships.  He could also keep all his inventory straight, like which vending machines had pop, which had candy, what kind of pop or candy, when the pop or candy reached its expiration date, how many and exactly where items were located in the machines, the accounting of his money, etc. 

Even in his storage room . . . when I would help him move something, he would tell me where it was, how much there was of it, and exactly where to put it.  He kept all this information in his head!  I was impressed, but I never imagined that he would impress me even more in the future.

One day I told Allen I had a twenty-two-foot O’Day sailboat and would like to take him sailing.  Allen flatly said, No! 

I tried another time and found out he was worried about falling out of the boat.  I promised to lash his butt to the mast, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the overboard issue.  Once he finally got on my boat, he felt secure in the larger-than-expected cockpit and with a life jacket on he was good.

After one of our sails, we headed back to my van, and I jokingly said, Hey Allen, I’m tired, how about if you drive home? 

He responded, Give me the keys! 

So I did and got in the passenger side—playing along with Allen.  We were on a service road by our dock, and it was about a half-mile out to the main road with no traffic around.  Next thing I hear is the motor starting! With a blind guy at the wheel! 

I yelled, Allen!  There’s a blind man at the wheel! 

He responded with a grin, Yep, that’d be me!  And stepped on the gas!

He wasn’t going fast, but I’d say right, left, or right, right, yikes, right!  Left, slow, slower, no, no, MORE slow, and so on.  He drove the entire half mile! 

He just barely missed two trees, a large green dumpster, and by the time I got him stopped, he had parked us between two empty picnic tables.  When he got out of the driver’s side tapping away with his white blind stick, some folks eating at another picnic table stopped mid-bite and stared at the blind driver in disbelief!

The next time we went sailing, we had to motor over to the other side of the lake.  I thought about Allen driving, so I set him down by the tiller.  I said, Allen, the left is port and right is starboard and you have to push the tiller in the opposite direction you want to go.  Off we went just like the van; I’d yell out directions as we went in big circles, little circles, just missed a buoy, and almost ran aground once, but in relatively short order Allen started getting the hang of it!  From then on when we went sailing, I’d let him motor us out to wherever we were headed at the time.

One late autumn day we drove to the lake to go sailing, but it was too cold and windy.  Allen, who liked to smoke cigars, asked if he could smoke one in my new-used clunker I had just purchased.  I said, Sure, because it already smelled of cigarette smoke from the previous owner.  We rolled the windows down, and he started puffing away.  He had eaten a large order of French fries on the way up, so he held the large fry container in his lap to tap the ashes into.  I had been looking out my window for a while at the lake when Allen casually said, Am I on fire?

I said, What!  Are you on fire??? 

Turning, I saw foot-high flames leaping up from his crotch!  He had accidentally touched the lit part of his cigar to the edge of the French fry container and set it ablaze!  My first thought was to smack out the flame with my hand, but then thought to myself, That wouldn’t be nice to a blind guy, he’d never see it coming! 

So, I grabbed the container by the edge and threw it out his window.  Allen was not bothered by the incident in the least; he only said, The reason I asked about the fire was because it was getting a bit toasty down there, and kept right on puffin’ his cigar!

The most important thing that came out of those times together was our talks.  Allen believed in Jesus as his Savior but struggled with some ethical and theological issues.  We would talk, and talk, and pray.  I would often tell him some of my faith stories and those would counter some legalism he also struggled with.  In time, he began to see Jesus as a relationship and not just a set of rules but more as a living Lord and forever Friend.

The last time Allen and I went sailing, we discussed his sailing the boat himself that day.  I didn’t realize how much information about our surroundings and sailings Allen had been absorbing through his other senses.  He described, The hardest thing for me is feeling forward movement and speed.  He told me to close my eyes while we were moving forward.  He was right, we could have been sitting at a dock rocking in the waves with the wind blowing in our faces and going nowhere, and it would have felt the same as when moving!

Still, off we went and within an hour, Allen was sailing the boat by himself!!  He explained that the wind on his face gave him direction, the sound of the sails told him when they were full of wind or luffing (flapping), and for forward movement and speed?  He listened to the gurgle of water behind the boat!  Allen sailed leaning over at the waist with one hand on the tiller and looking straight down at the floor of the cockpit. 

He was doing it all by feel and sound!  I was standing up on deck by the mast when we would pass another boat, folks would wave Hi and smile then look puzzled at Allen staring at the bottom of the boat and not looking at where he was sailing.  I’d yell over, He’s a blind sailor!  Their mouths would drop open, and every time I looked back, I’d see Allen face down with his hand on the tiller ‘grinning!’

He sailed for three hours that day, and I only had to guide him around one buoy.  Allen was thrilled, and I was profoundly impressed!  However, neither of us knew that would be Allen’s last sail.  By the next summer, he had developed cancer, and his slide downhill was