Dear friend,
“Sorry, but he’s too young. I don’t let kids drive on their own, they forget to switch off the engines, he’ll ram the pier.”
“No, he’ll be okay. He’ll do it right, he’s not daft.”
Dad is sticking up for me.
We’re stood in the sunshine. I’m looking up at the man in charge of the motor boats on what seems to me like a huge boating pond. Both men are sweating in the heat. The guy is funny and nice with curly hair, and to my amazement Dad’s talking him round. Maybe Dad’s had enough of the seaside fun and wants to slope off for a beer and a fag while me and Kevin ride the motor boats.
“Who’s driving?” You can feel the warmth of the guy, like he’s curious to see how this turns out.
Dad points to me.
“You’ll have to pay for any damage.” he tells Dad.
Dad looks at me and I’m suddenly aware the stakes have risen.
“Alright then you two, hop in.”
The boatman is holding a worn cream rope in one hand. He’s got one foot resting on the boat keeping it flush to the jetty.
“See that handle? You push it forward to go and when I call you in you pull it all the way back to shut off the engine. Repeat it back to me, what do you have to do?”
“Forward to go” I say “all the way back when you call us.”
“God help me”, says the man. “Go round that way.” He makes a circle with his hand. I’m glad he didn’t say clockwise because I can never quite work out what that means.
“When you come back in, come back at an angle. Don’t drive straight at the jetty, at an angle right.”
I nod.
Somehow that’s easy to remember. There was something else though, but I’m too embarrassed to ask. What was it I’m supposed to remember. I see Dad’s face in my mind, red with the heat telling the guy he can trust me.
Kevin sits next to me on the wooden bench that serves as a seat. It’s a small wooden motorboat, with a white plastic steering wheel. There are ducks and other kids going round with their parents.
We’re the only two on our own.
I can’t believe Dad stood up for us like that.
It feels amazing.
There was something important to remember, but it’s gone from my mind as the guy leans into the boat, pushes the lever into the go position for us and we slide off across the liquid silver and green of the pond. Freedom in our lungs. My heart close to bursting with joy. Heaven in the timeless, right her on earth.
The boat feels strong and certain beneath us and I love the feel of the wheel in my hands as we cut through the water, going someplace, even if it’s just round and round.
I can’t see Dad, but Mam is watching from the bank eating a choc ice.
It’s our working class, nineteen seventies, British seaside holiday.
I’m nine and Kevin’s seven.
Tears of gratitude are coming now for the blessing of it. The image cuts to the heart of what Mam and Dad were trying to do. To live well and give us better than they had. How could they know it would be a trip round the duck pond?
That thing I had to remember is gone like a butterfly from my kid mind. I’m lost in the bliss of the moment.
I even let Kevin have a go of the wheel for a bit.
If only it would last forever.
But the guy has a big brass bell he rings and he’s pointing at us, we have one more turn round the pond.
What was that thing?
I’m bringing the boat in at an angle and then it pops back into my mind, an angel must’ve whispered in my ear. I pull back the lever and the engine cuts out and we slide easily alongside the wooden pier.
“Well I’ll be buggered,” says the man and I can tell he’s pleased and Dad is proud and Mam is relieved and we get out of the boat with me feeling like it’s all in place and everything’s right with the world and maybe now we might have choc ice and it’s the good life. Truly. What more could you ask for?
Afterwards I have a go on a real motorbike round a field with a crash helmet on. A kid broke their leg. It was the seventies. Health and safety wasn’t such a big deal.
Then we’re back at the caravanette in the semi darkness listening to the radio while we have sausages and beans and instant mash. I stay awake just long enough to hear Dad snoring. His snores so loud they make the van vibrate. It was like sleeping inside of him.
You know those times when you think being a big cheese in the world is important? Maybe pull back on that lever, cruise for a bit and connect to the ones you’re with.
It’s the little things that make us truly wealthy.
Your presence is the priceless gift.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey