ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!
…Snooze.
ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!
…Snooze.
ALARM! ALARM! ALARM!
…As my feet make contact with the cold, wooden floor, it creaks beneath the pressure of my weight. I groggily gaze 'round the room filled with objects silhouetted by the pale moonlight leaking between the louvers of the window blinds. I slowly stand up and begin to maneuver through the shadowy objects, sliding on a pair of O’Neill boardshorts, pulling a Quicksilver hoodie over my head, collecting keys & wallet, then traverse the living room toward the front door. Before stepping out, a chime sounds on my phone.
“Are you awake?” the text reads.
“Barely” I respond. I slip on a pair of old Busenitz Adidas then step out the door into darkness. A heavy mist hangs low in the atmosphere coating everything with small pebbles of hydrogen & oxygen; even the air is moist with the taste of clouds. A small jolt overcomes me as I hasten my pace toward the truck, and a childish grin begins to spread across my face. There will be no roosters signaling the beginning of this day but if there were, I beat them out of bed this morning.
I cruise along the interstate rolling up & down across the small overpasses littering the downtown highway. The warm, orange glow of the street lights reflects on the hood of my truck while the city casts light eerily on the low-hanging clouds as I pull off the exit ramp and wind the downtown streets en route to the shop. I pull into a small industrial building lot, unlock the gate, and slide the metal monstrosity open listening to its bellowing creaks. I remove the damp cover from the Mastercraft Prostar, folding then tucking it away in the tailgate. I latch the trailer to the ball hitch and hook the tow chains double-checking to secure everything, then jump into the truck and continue toward the lake.
The mist begins to melt away as the first rays of golden sunlight bleed across the sky. The main road to the boat ramp meanders alongside Lake Ivanhoe and first view is pure glass; I am concerned about my health but a little butter for breakfast never killed anyone. The boat slides off the trailer coasting slowly across the placid water. I prime the carburetor and twist the ignition key listening to the five-point-seven liter engine suck in its first mouthful of air then rumble to life. A delicate churning emits from the backside of the boat, the twin exhaust exits submerged beneath the platform bubbling in harmony.
I top off the Fly High fat sacs and attach the Skylon pole, then sit down in the captain’s chair admiring the tranquil beauty of lush green trees, crystal blue sky, and motionless lake water. Thousands have sat where I am gazing dreamily across this very lake. We share a kinship of the joys brought to us through the advent of combustion engines, boats, and the fluid dynamics which make wakesurfing, wakeboarding, wakeskating, and waterskiing possible. We all share a love of the sun and fun days to be had jostling in the natural environment surrounding us. But - by far - the most rewarding part of this entire experience is…
“Tarzan!”
My first student of the day just showed up to wakeskate behind the boat. We will have to talk later.
