Boat
and float
There were two things I learned to drive before I could drive: Grandma’s tractor and a boat. Now, for the uninitiated, you probably think that of the two, a boat is easier to drive. I beg to differ.
A boat is a fickle thing, and rides upon an ever-moving and undulating surface, sometimes smooth, sometimes far from it. A tractor or car will go exactly where you point it, straight roads, all the corners are 90 degrees, two pedals to mess with. A boat is an animal of its own kind.
Today, when I’m driving down an uninteresting stretch of interstate, surrounded by other angry parents, if I’m lucky, a boat will go past and in a split second, I will be transported back to the days of my youth. All it took was once glace at a boat.
Each boat ride is a little different; some pull a lot of draft, others glide over the surface like a leaf. Some engines bog, others respond before you twitch the throttle.
I personally don’t think you’ve lived any sort of life unless you’ve been seated at the back of a boat, your hand firmly gripping that slick rubber; you’ve got the throttle wide open on a smooth as glass piece of water, and you take the boat on a wide arch into the unknown.
If you know, you know.
Some of you might be thinking, “How can a boat be more than a boat?” Well, that’s just plain ignorance and city folk talk.
What you fail to understand is that in your youth, a boat is a trip. A trip requires packing, planning, exhilaration, mystery, mishaps, and laughter. To be honest, that all happens before you’ve even pulled out of the driveway with the boat in tow. The simple question of “Will we make it?” is fresh on the mind, adding a bit of butterflies to the old belly.
There is more to a boat than just a boat.
Do you have enough gas for the drive to and from that remote island that holds the best fish?
Has the boat motor been acting up recently?
Do you have the required snacks and drinks packed?
Have you packed your favorite lure?
What is the forecast like? Is there wind, rain, or choppy water?
Will you be able to find your way back when every tree, shoreline, and rock looks the same?
What’s for supper when you get back if you don’t catch fish?
I could go on, but hopefully you get the picture. All that is play if things go perfectly to plan, which they usually don’t.
Some of my fondest memories are barely making it back to the dock with the boat half swamped and the waves coming inside at the bottom of every swell. Kicking off your shoes and getting ready to swim will give your step a little extra zing.
Or maybe it’s sitting a few miles on the big lake with a storm blowing in from the West, while you watch the motor that’s refusing to start be fiddled with for the millionth time. Even a few times where you make a break for the nearest island to hide from the driving rain and lightning because you stayed too long.
Don’t tell me that a boat is just a boat.
What, you thought I was lying about being stuck in the middle of a lake, an hour’s drive from the cabin with a storm brewing and a broken engine? That’s what I thought.
To be honest, I daydreamed about being shipwrecked on one of those islands, surviving the night against the wolves and bears. What more could a boy want? Not much.
A boat isn’t just a boat; it’s family, memories, and a changed life by being close to and bonding with people in a fashion that’s only made possible by the presence of a boat, especially if that boat is fickle.
I’ve struggled to find the words to describe what memories the sight of a boat brings back to me now, impossible to capture them all, a lifetime of memories that is endless as the water over which we rode.
One could imagine many of the ills that plague society as a whole being solved if we gave each family a 1975 Evinrude, a tank of gas, and set them loose on a large body of water with some sandwiches and a few beers.