Monday, August 24, 2015
What Are You Waiting For?
A pontoon. Super cute. Super huge. Super learning curve!
Our cabin is on 3800 acres of lakes. A huge chain of lakes. We're located at the bottom of the chain in a rather marshy spot. Lots of otters, Lots of mushy ick just waiting to get stuck in your outboard. Which happened to us repeatedly.
So endlessly we're checking to see if the engine is peeing. "Is it peeing?" Do you see it peeing?"
We had Mikey with us to help us with the launching, starting, and general learnage of our huge, lovely boat (tentatively named "Flipper." Pup isn't all in on that name. I am.).
It was over 90 degrees and the dewpoints were in the 70s. Yeah, Minnesota/Wisconsin can get hella hot. People from other parts of the country find that hard to believe. But we don't. We were all sweating like whores in church. Oh wait, that's a horrible metaphor. But we was sweatin'. Like everythang. And I sweat the most. Always have. There's just something about a high dewpoint that makes me feel like my skin cannot breath. I'm just damp and sweatin' and miserable.
So we loaded up the boat with all of us, Pup, me, Lorenzo, Bella, Spud, Lorenzo's friend Rey (who was hungover as hell, poor sweet girl).
We tried to stay in what Larry (former owner) called the "driveway." The place in the marsh where you can see other boats have gone over and over. So there's a path of sorts right through all the wild rice and stuff.
But we got off course and mushed up the motor.
Finally we're out in the great expanse of lakes and Mikey's giving us updates.
"She's not peeing."
"She's only peeing a little."
So we'd stop, poke the peehole with a stick and start off again.
Flipper stops peeing entirely.
We're wondering what to do. So Mikey waves down a couple of young men on the shore.
"We have some trouble. Could you tow us to the boat launch? We'd pay for your trouble!"
The boys say sure!
We putt over to their dock. We're discussing what and where and how when a head suddenly appears from above us on the deck. A neat, athletic, head.
"What's the trouble?" He asks.
Before you could think about all those whores sweating in church, he bounds down to the dock and leaps onto our boat. A 5'4" bundle of Guido. All muscles, colorful tanktop, athlesure pants, and white Addidas. An ass I could not take my eyes off of. Seriously! We all thought so!
He took charge. Not peeing? Simple! Suck on that thang!
"Boy!" he hollered, "suck on that for these guys."
I laughed to myself thinking, "That's never going to happen . . . "
But it did. His kid sucked on the intake (or whatever the hell it is) and cleared out the muck. Beyond the call. What the hell? How wonderful are these guys?
The athletic, hot, Guido-dad ran down the length of Flipper and made a three foot leap from our boat to the dock. A collective sigh went up from the female portion of the observants (well, maybe it was only me). I think the guys were a bit impressed as well. They would lie if asked wouldn't they?
We putted home happy and peeing like crazy.
As we entered the long driveway leading to our dock we saw people checking us out. Mikey said, "Hi! These guys are new to the lake." And the people replied, "Oh! Larry's people!"
Nice to know we're home. I rather like being "Larry's People."