Why Boating Rocks

My dad bought his first speedboat when I was only a few months old. So, I have always been a boating girl. There is something really special about going boating. I remember when I was younger, still living with my parents, we would go every Sunday morning in the summer. Dad would wake us up at the asscrack of dawn, that time when it's still kind of chilly and wet even though it's july, and we'd pile into the car and drive to the launch. When Emily and I were old enough, we would help mom hold the boat in the water while dad parked the truck and trailer. There is something really cool about being on a boat. You don't go that fast -- only about 30-40mph, which isn't that impressive when you're in a car. But, when you're going that speed on the open river, with the wind in your hair and the water splashing your face, it feels . . . so fast, it's almost a little nerve-racking.

Of course, another fun thing about boat trips is that you never know what will happen. Like that time we were anchored and some other stupid boat full of stupid idiots came too close and their prop actually cut the rope attaching our boat to our anchor. We lost the anchor, and so had to drive home, and my dad had to buy a new anchor. (Which, I must add, is called "The Super Hooker" -- I kid you not, I am so serious, it's acutally called that!)

Or when we used to bring our old dog, Chauncey, on the boat, and she would just barely wait until dad slowed down to anchor before she jumped off the back. Sometimes, she couldn't even wait that long. And once . . . she did fall off the boat, once. But we rescued her. :)

Or that time we were peacefully anchored in a little cove, and these giant freaky swan beasts were honking all over the place. Watch out for swans -- those things are agressive and dangerous!

Or that time my mom's huge nerdy straw hat blew off in the wind as we were driving, and we turned around and used a giant pole with a hook on the end to make a heroic rescue.

Or that time when we hadn't even launched -- I was on the dock, holding the boat, and my dad turned the key to start the engine, and all we heard was "clickclickclick." Yes, the battery was dead. The look on my dad's face . . . I thought he was going to cry. Or have a stroke. We ended up pulling his truck into the river and using his truck to jump start the boat, which was in the water.

Or that time when I was really young and was playing on the baot while my dad went for a walk on the beach. I must have accidentally hit the little switch that trims the motor up, because by the time my dad got back on the boat, the trim motor had burned out and died. For years, we drove that boat without a proper trim :)



Yeah, boating rocks.