Copyright 2014 Matt Cairone
All Rights Reserved
I paid $50 cash for forty minutes. We got instructions – no 360’s – no riding out of sight – no dangerous maneuvers – yada yada.
I strapped the safety harness to my wrist, and we pushed the wave runner off of the sand and into the water. My son, Carl, hung on, not knowing what to expect, and I accelerated. We went slow at first, but not for long. We zoomed out into the wide-open water.
The wind slapped at our faces, and the runner banged off of each swell. This thing was fast as hell. And it was fun. We made a sharp right turn, skimming past the last buoy on our right and zipping past the shoreline. The surf spray shot on us, and we let the thing run full out for about a quarter of a mile.
The wind slapped at our faces, and the runner banged off of each swell. This thing was fast as hell. And it was fun. We made a sharp right turn, skimming past the last buoy on our right and zipping past the shoreline. The surf spray shot on us, and we let the thing run full out for about a quarter of a mile.
I let off the throttle and the runner stopped hard, balancing on the water, seeking equilibrium. When it came to rest, water covered our feet, and the bailing mechanism started to shoot a spray behind us and straight up behind our heads. As soon as I felt Carl relax for a second I stunned him with an abrupt acceleration, and we were off. This time we headed straight out away from the beach and toward the two large rocks that jutted out from the ocean. It was exhilarating. And we both embraced the moment and the speed.
“Let me drive,” he yelled, and I could barely hear him over the wind, the engine, and the water.
“Are you sure” I said as I decelerated.
“Yeah, give me a shot. See if you can take it on the back.”
“OK.”
“Let me drive,” he yelled, and I could barely hear him over the wind, the engine, and the water.
“Are you sure” I said as I decelerated.
“Yeah, give me a shot. See if you can take it on the back.”
“OK.”
We fumbled around to switch places without going overboard. I was convinced this thing couldn’t tip over, but I knew either or both of us could. I maneuvered to the back and he to the front, we exchanged the bracelet, I told him how the thing worked, and that he would have to hold firm to the handlebars. I stressed this latter point, because the smallest waves gave quite a jolt.
He was firmly in control, and I would have given anything to know if he was excited or petrified. He tried to gauge the feel of the throttle with a few jerky bursts, and we lurched forward and halted several times while he did. I guess he got the feel of it, since the next thing I knew we were flying across the open water, and I soon appreciated the difference of being on the back, and totally out of control. Talk about a role reversal.
He was digging it. We screamed forward and he was not at all shy about letting it go. A banana boat was crossing our path, and I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. Go for the wake. Go for the big air. Go for it.
At full speed, we hit the small waves that followed the boat. Bang, up in the air, and bang, even harder back down on the water. Four huge blasts like that and we were still on board. He let off of the gas, and we reeled to a quick stop.
“Awesome” he yelled, with water dripping off of his nose and face. “Totally cool.”
“Yeah,” was all I could muster. But it was cool, and I was proud of him.
We spent the rest of our time in fits and starts, sometimes cruising to look at the clear blue water and what was beneath it, and at others riding the waves like a roller coaster.
“You can take over” he said, his adrenalin exhausted.
“OK. Let’s be careful when we switch.”
I took us to the far end of the island, and did a 180. Our time was up, and we sped back.
He was digging it. We screamed forward and he was not at all shy about letting it go. A banana boat was crossing our path, and I knew what he was thinking, because I was thinking the same thing. Go for the wake. Go for the big air. Go for it.
At full speed, we hit the small waves that followed the boat. Bang, up in the air, and bang, even harder back down on the water. Four huge blasts like that and we were still on board. He let off of the gas, and we reeled to a quick stop.
“Awesome” he yelled, with water dripping off of his nose and face. “Totally cool.”
“Yeah,” was all I could muster. But it was cool, and I was proud of him.
We spent the rest of our time in fits and starts, sometimes cruising to look at the clear blue water and what was beneath it, and at others riding the waves like a roller coaster.
“You can take over” he said, his adrenalin exhausted.
“OK. Let’s be careful when we switch.”
I took us to the far end of the island, and did a 180. Our time was up, and we sped back.
We slowed only feet before the sand, and let the last momentum of our ride take the runner back onto the shore where it shook to a stop, like a beached whale.
“Did you have a good time?” asked the young boy.
“It was great” Carl said.
“Did you have a good time?” asked the young boy.
“It was great” Carl said.
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