American presidents are often cast as solemn figures—guardians of democracy, bearers of burdens—but peel back the layers, and you’ll find a surprising streak of humor running through history. From Abraham Lincoln’s folksy tall tales to Teddy Roosevelt’s boisterous antics, a good laugh has long been a politician’s secret weapon. It disarms critics, wins votes, and reminds everyone that even the Oval Office needs a punchline now and then.

Take Ronald Reagan, for instance. Shot in the chest during an assassination attempt in 1981, his life hanging by a thread as they wheeled him into surgery, he cracked wise to the medical team: “I hope you’re all Republicans.” The quip not only lightened the room but cemented his image as the unflappable optimist. But if Reagan’s humor was quick and clever, there was one president whose jokes were downright epic—elaborate setups that left his victims gasping, then guffawing. This commander-in-chief wasn’t just funny; he was a master of the long con.

At his beloved sprawling homestead—he’d charm guests with his larger-than-life personality, regaling them with stories of Washington wheeling and dealing while cruising the property in his sleek, Lagoon Blue convertible. The air would hum with easy laughter, the wind whipping through the open top as the car picked up speed down a familiar path. Then, without warning, where the road dipped sharply toward the shimmering lake below—the president’s face would twist in mock horror. “The brakes don’t work! The brakes won’t hold! We’re going in! We’re going under!” he’d bellow, his voice booming like thunder over the calm of the water.

Chaos ensued. Passengers clutched seats, hearts pounding, eyes wide with terror as the car hurtled into the lake with a thunderous splash. Water sprayed up like a geyser, soaking suits and dresses, the engine’s roar turning to a gurgle. Screams pierced the air—until, miraculously, the vehicle leveled out, bobbing serenely on the surface. No sinking ship, no watery grave. Instead, the president would throw back his head and roar with laughter, flipping a switch to engage the twin propellers. “Gotcha!” he’d crow, steering the floating marvel around the lake—a captain on a leisurely 7-knot joyride.

This wasn’t just any car; it was the Amphicar 770, a German-engineered oddity from the 1960s—the only amphibious automobile ever mass-produced for civilians. With just 3,878 units rolling off the lines in West Germany, most of these beasts headed stateside (3,046 to be exact), it was a quirky little monster powered by a humble 43-horsepower Triumph Herald four-cylinder engine. The name “770” was a cheeky nod to its dual prowess: 7-knots on water (about 8 mph, no speed demon) and 70 mph on land. Painted in one of four vibrant hues—Beach White, Regatta Red, Lagoon Blue, or Fjord Green—it looked every bit the innocent roadster, perfect for devious delights. 

Jimmy Buffett loved his Amphicar. The famous musician—and leader of the Parrotheads—parked his alongside his vintage planes in a nod to its adventurous spirit.

Joseph A. Califano Jr., the president’s special assistant for domestic affairs, fell victim to this aquatic ambush one fateful afternoon. Seated in the back and riding with White House secretary Vicky McCammon, he recounted the heart-stopping moment, writing: “The car splashed into the water. I started to get out. Just then the car leveled, and I realized we were in an Amphicar. The President laughed. As we putted along the lake then (and throughout the evening), he teased me. ‘Vicky, did you see what Joe did? He didn’t give a damn about his President. He just wanted to save his own skin and get out of the car.’ Then he’d roar.” 

Only two U.S. presidents have owned an Amphicar: Jimmy Carter, who kept his ownership low-key, and the irrepressible Lyndon B. Johnson, who turned his into a floating comedy club. Yep……the presidential prankster was President Lyndon B. Johnson.

President Lyndon B. Johnson routinely pranked guests with this little ruse at his Texas ranch, known as the Texas White House. And, when you think about him driving straight into the lake with unsuspecting passengers, you just have to chuckle.

Today, LBJ’s Lagoon Blue beauty sits proudly on display at the Lyndon B. Johnson National Historical Park, a testament to the man who signed landmark civil rights legislation by day and engineered epic laughs by dusk.

You can’t rev up Johnson’s original anymore, but if you’re craving that splashy thrill, head to The Boathouse at Disney Springs in Florida. There, on the shores of Lake Buena Vista, they’ve amassed what might be the world’s largest fleet of these floating wonders. For a modest fee, climb aboard and relive the legend—maybe even yell “The brakes won’t hold!” as you glide into the water. Just remember to wave at the onlookers on-shore; because my four-year-old son, Gabriel, gets downright miffed when folks forget to wave at him from the boat..…ahhh car….oh yea…Amphicar. 

Y’all buckle up now—or maybe I should say, float on! History’s never been so wet and wild!