Whew-eee, A WHOLE lotta weather we've been havin lately! Yessiree-Jim-bob-cattails, A WHOLE LOTTA WEATHER!
To beat the heat, I took the munchkins boating yesterday. We have a cool little jet boat called a Sea Rayder. It's really just a big jet ski, shaped like a boat. It's big enough for five people, while small enough to fit in my garage. It can do everything a jet ski can do: Spin a three-sixty, jump wakes, run right up to the beach, and skim across shallow water.
She has two names:
The Barbie Malibu Speedboat
The Pocket yacht.
Yesterday was rather amusing.
As those of you boaters know, the adventure of water sports is filled with amateurs. Folks who buy a boat and some beer, then head out fer some rip roarin fun. There is no such thing as a boating license in Ohio, and from what I have seen over the past twenty years, attendance in boater education courses remains abysmally low.
The place where this truth is most visible, is the marina.
At Alum Creek resivor, we have a four lane dock. This means FOUR boats: (4) boats, IIII boats... Can launch at a time.
Unfortunately, this should be, orderly procession, is ususally a clusterf*ck of idiots, who graduated from the zig-zag school of trailer towing. Then, there are also those poor souls who suffer from boater bulimia, and believe their trailer is SOOO WIDE, that they must use two lanes, and take their half out of the middle.
For the most part, the boating community is pretty tolerant of these fools, and those of us who have been around for awhile, are quick to lend a helping hand at the docks. (Finding help on the water when you raise a distress flag, is quite a different experience, however, as the beer boaters don't know what a distress flag is, and will blast right past you and wave, while watching you sink.)
Anyway, the point to this choppy narrative, is that I am always amused when guys see me launching with my crew of little kids. They assume right off the bat, that I am inexperienced, and in need of their help. While I appreciate their kind hearted attempts at chivalry, I am also offended by the assumed incompetence, because of my gender.
It has given me great pleasure, on hundreds of occasions, to back that baby into the lake, with precision accuracy, while my little swabbys jump to their posts, and launch our little pink Pocket yacht with enviable expertise.
The comments and expressions over the years have been priceless.
But, no one is perfect, no matter how hard we may try...and much to my chagrin, yesterday, I made a classic beer boater blunder.
I forgot to put the plugs back in the boat after our last trip.
What are plugs, you ask? Why plugs are the little corks in the back of the hull, that keep the boat from...
Oh, yes, my blogger friends. It was everything you might imagine; Mom and her two little tykes, toolin out on the lake, in the trajectory of a line graph, identical to President Bush's approval ratings.
It was not a pretty sight.
At first, I thought something was wrong with the engine, as I could not get enough power to make the bow plane out, so I checked the hold, and saw the water rising fast.
"Great Green Goddess, we're SINKING!"
"Kids, get the weight to the front!"
Then, I did one of my famous 180 degree spins, full power, with her nose straight up in the air, like Camilla Parker Bowles, and flew for the beach, right thru the no wake zone, at top speed.
I felt like Quint, in the movie JAWS, when he pushes the Orca's engines past their breaking point, as the water is pouring in. HA!
HOOPER: "Quint! Quint! Shut it Down! She can't take anymore!"
QUINT: "Shadd-UP!" arghhh, matey. As he presses his shoulder into the already maxed out throttle.
We sped right past several shocked on lookers, ran her aground, and did a quick underwater repair job.
After that, we had a lovely day of boating, tubing, and swimming, complete with a slightly soggy picnic lunch.
What a way to beat the heat!