A little back-story on our families’ boat history: Once
Brian and his family (including infant sister) were caught in the muck of low
tide for 8 hours. My mom once drove a boat up onto a dock. Once when my sister
was water skiing the prop broke off the boat. My uncles/aunts/grandparents/ cousins
who live on a lake have second or third-hand boats that always break down. This may or may not be related to the fact
that they are all generous and lend their boats to anyone. Also they store the
boats in a huge barn all winter(s) long. My grandfather fixes everything with
baling wire—including motor boats. Clearly we have a rich history of nautical
excellence.
Bring on the adventure. |
So we all jumped in Generous Uncle Pete’s boat, on a sparklingly sunny day, ready for adventure. We made sure we had an oar and life jackets first. We got to the park with no problem—the endless blue rolling by, the boys loving the ride, the motor roaring. Had a lovely picnic after playing on the super-safe retro metal slide and the long-chained, really-high swings. So much better than the playgrounds made today. Also much hotter than playgrounds made today.
The beach was great—and there was only one other group on it. When they left we insisted (physically) that Calvin get into the water in his life jacket. Anyone within earshot would have thought he was being tortured and/or drowning. Considering his fear of water, he did okay. After a couple hours at the park we loaded everything and everybody up into the boat.
Calvin Motor and the less serious Clark Motor |
MOTORING WITH AUNT BEAN! |
A few minutes later an empty bag flew out of our boat.
We turned around and this time Crystal scooped up the bag with a wiffle bat and
we didn’t have to kill the motor. We pulled into a bay with a gas station to
fill up. Calvin Motor asked to be covered up with a towel while he got filled
up with gas. After a good $60 of gas, a turn of the key produced a click. No
blue smoke. No sputters. Just a click.
You’ve got to be kidding.
A gas station attendant
gave us some advice but there was nothing going on. We got off the boat in the
relentlessly burning sun and Crys and I took the boys around the side of the gas station
where there was a strip of shade before the first boat slip and I gave them a juice
box. Dad and Brian couldn’t figure out anything. They tested the battery and poked around in various boat areas. After awhile of bravely entertaining the
boys on the dock behind the gas station, Brian showed up from inside the gas
station with ice cold beer for us. It’s a tough life, being marooned on a dock.
In the shade. With a beer.
I helped move the boat down the dock away from the
gas pumps and we pulled everything out of it. There was a perfect-sized cart
that the attendant was able to lend us and we pushed our cooler with our sustenance
and all our other stuff into the shade of…a bar and grille? Hm. Too bad. When I
got back, Clark was getting impatient and ran around the corner of the gas
station, fell (shocker) and skinned his knees. Upon seeing his brother in pain,
Calvin emptied his bladder through his wet swim diaper and a puddle spread in a
perfect circle the dock in front of the gas station. Awesome. So we cleaned the
knees and the dock, reapplied diapers to the boys, and decided it was time to
form a rescue plan.
My mom had just finished work, but she could go back to her
house, get the key to our van with car seats in it, go to my grandparents’ and
get our van, and drive around the lake to the bay we were at, and pick us up.
Uncle Pete would bring his boat trailer and rescue the boat.
Now for the
most harrowing part of our tale—we all went inside the bar and grille, ordered nachos, huckleberry
beer, and apple juice, and watched reruns of the home run derby on the giant
TVs in the air conditioning. The boys colored. Sometimes these things happen,
and I’ve learned to make the best of them. Suffer through them, and in the end
I’ll be a stronger person.
After awhile we went ahead and ordered a pizza and
more huckleberry beer and (Crys, why did you order me another one?!) Mom and
Uncle Pete came. With more people to feed on the island, the fight for survival
turned ugly. We did the only thing we could; we ordered some chicken fingers as
well.
After dinner Uncle Pete loaded up his boat and
Brian drove us home in our van. The boys fell asleep on the ride home, with
lots of food in their bellies.
And that is how we survived being stranded in the rugged Idaho.
And that is how we survived being stranded in the rugged Idaho.
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