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Illustration: Gary Hovland
When I was 8 years old, my dad surprised our family with an 18-foot bowrider. On our first trip out, as I bounced in the bow, I somehow knew I’d always have a boat. As a teen, I cruised around Lake Michigan on a 16-foot wooden boat. This vintage little Carver smashed through the waves of the big lake effortlessly.
In college, I frequently took my gal pals out for boat rides, preferably on a rough day. After all, any potential soulmate would need to pass “The Test,” which was a full-throttle sea trial. Most of my dates failed miserably. They held onto the grab rail with fear in their eyes, screaming as the four-footers crashed over their heads.
My first date with my future wife was on her 22nd birthday. We went for a picnic cruise on my parents’ 28-foot cruiser. She loved it! After a dinner date or two, I began wondering if she was the one. Our relationship was budding, but did water flow through her veins? Did she have the essential aquatic mojo?
It was time for The Test. Out we went on the old wooden boat. The waves crashed over the bow. The boat banged through the swells. The lake water drenched our hair. And to my astonishment, she turned to me and said, “This is awesome! Can I drive?” She not only passed the test, she blew it out of the water! Now, 30 years later, we’re still joyful when water is beneath us, and we’ve never been without a boat.