The Jet Ski

Nik begged me to rent a jet ski. I didn’t like them, and I knew he would want me to let him drive it once we ventured out into the lake. I told him we could rent a kayak or a canoe, a sailboat or I’d pay for him to go parasailing. But he only wanted to go out on the jet-ski, and so, we didn’t do anything.

Last week I had the opportunity to ride on a jet-ski. It sounded better than working or cutting wood, so I said, sure. Monique, Jeannie and I went from City Beach to Priest River. The jet-ski felt like riding on the back of a motorcycle on water and made me feel free. The water fizzled like soda pop and 1,000 rainbows arced behind us like magic. Jeannie got it up to 35 mph (she said it can do 70) and we bounced over the waves like a tennis ball. It was amazing.

We stopped and had lunch at Willow Bay, and Jeannie informed me that when we got back to the beach, I was to ride the jet-ski (adding that she has only dumped it once).

But I didn’t want to drive the damn thing. All I could think of was Nik. Why didn’t I take Nik out on one when I had the chance? I could have told him we would go, but only I could drive it because he was too young. We would have had a blast.

By the time we returned to the beachhead, I had made up my mind to give it a whirl. Jeannie showed me how to operate it and how to get back on if I crashed. I decided not to crash. I also decided to drive it for Nik.

Jeannie pushed me off and I started it up. We lurched past the bouys and then, I cranked up the gas. I skipped over the water like a flat rock, jumping over waves and wakes. I headed toward Hope, laughing and crying at the same time.

Nik and I got it up to 35 mph. We made a big circle and looped our way back to the beach. We didn’t put on the brake and we didn’t dump it in the water. Jeannie waved me in, and I brought it to shore. She jumped on the back, and we drove it back to the dock, loaded it on the trailer, and headed home.

Thank-you Nik for giving me the courage to drive the jet-ski. I miss you, every day.