My Only Friend La Croix - Chapter 16

I got in the driver’s seat of the ski boat and waited for dad to reverse the trailer onto the ramp. I loaded up some C Tangana and lowered the stern drive as we backed into the water. Dad got out of the red minivan and unhooked the boat from the trailer, looking up at me as I turned on the engine and put it in reverse. I whipped the boat back and to the left towards the dock, then put it in gear and floated out near the buoys of the no wake zone.

I sat in the shade of the Bimini and put some sunscreen on my arms as I waited for him to run from the van to the dock. I watched the boat over as they were parked on the dock. One of the kids got out of the boat and walked to the end of the dock and pencil dived to where I was hoping to pick up Dad, so I waited a minute then floated over. I pointed the nose of the boat to the end of the dock and punched it in reverse as Dad stepped into the front of the boat.

We rode out to the opening of the channel. Dad prepped the wakeboard and ran through his usual routine.

“I’ve found that I like putting the bindings back a notch,” he said to me. I hear the usual story every time that we go to Saguaro. “I feel like I get more stability when I’m landing,” he continued as he put on his white ski cap to protect his head from the sun and snapped the pink 80s life preserver over his chest. He slid off the back of the boat into the water.

I turned on the boat after he cleared the propeller and whipped toward the opening of the channel. It wasn’t too choppy—it’s always a bit clearer in the middle of the lake. I took the slack out of the rope and looked back at him.

“Anytime,” he said quietly. The noise carries over the water so there’s no need to yell despite the distance. I punched the drive and watched him stand up out of the water in the mirror.

The lake was empty except for a few fishing boats parked on the channel walls. I got the boat to speed and kept catching Dad’s jumps in the mirror. He bumped his hand with his palm towards the sky and I increased the speed. I looked back at him and he took a hand off the rope and flashed me an OK. Every inch of his body was safeguarded from the sun—he takes good care of himself.

We passed through the middle of the lake, bordered by low shores and reeds. Saguaro caught the morning sun as they stood tall on the ascending hillside. The water in front of us was glassy, unperturbed by the wakesurfing boats that we knew were coming.

“I hate those stupid damn boats,” Dad says every time we see one. Without fail—I catch the same earful about how their wake doesn’t look as big as it is until it hits you.

I looked back and caught Dad taking a hand off the rope to point to the right. I complied with his request and directed us towards the back of the lake. I pointed the boat at a 45 degree angle into some waves caused by wind and we entered the smooth water at the backside of the lake before the narrow and shallow second channel.

I turned the boat around sharply and we cruised another lap and I caught him riding the middle of the wake in the mirror, then he threw the rope. I whipped the boat around without slowing and tried to circle him before he even descended fully into the water. He caught the shallow end of the rope and I turned off the engine. We have an orange flag to alert other boaters that there’s someone in the water—with just the two of us, I usually don’t bother putting it up. There was no one to disturb us anyway. He was out of the bindings and he swam toward the boat and slid the board onto the back.

We parked and I swapped the bindings.

“I’m surprised you can have your foot turned like that,” he said to me. I told him that it’s always my back foot. “I thought you will ride both ways sometimes?” he continued.

“No, I always ride right foot forward,” I said.

“Oh,” he said.

I got into the water and jammed my feet into the bindings.

“Do you want me to turn you to the front or the back?” Dad asked.

“Let’s go to the right here,” I said. “I think it’s pretty smooth.”

We ran through the same routine and I stepped up above the water as the boat gained some speed. I wrung out my legs with a few quick turns and started hopping the wake. I looked out beyond us and saw that a red boat with a heavy ballast was off in the distance—Dad saw it too and turned us around. I ran a shorter lap toward the back of the lake. The turn at the very end is one of my favorite parts—the sharp port turn gives you some wild speed if you ride it right. I did a few jumps until we were in the clearing then threw the rope when I saw that he looked back at me.

“Nice,” I said as he circled the boat around me.

I grabbed the cleat and pulled myself onto the back of the boat and unclipped the life jacket and stood in the Arizona sun to dry before getting all the way in the vessel. We decided that it was already time for lunch. Dad pulled the small soft-walled blue cooler from under the seat and grabbed his Tupperware lunch of chicken and rice and chickpeas and I unwrapped a breakfast sandwich from Bosa Donuts.

“It’s funny, I haven’t been too certain of whether or not I should do this door to door thing—I feel like the more you talk about something, saying you’re going to do it, the more you can talk yourself out of it,” I said to Dad. He’s been a good sounding board to me for years. I found it strange that back in my early twenties, I viewed his approach to his career as the exact opposite of what I wanted out of my life—I didn’t want to work at one company for the entirety of my career, instead hoping to build a diverse set of skills and businesses that might tap into some upside, unknown to me.

“I don’t know, Kevin, I think you’re pretty motivated so I wouldn’t worry about that too much,” he said. I did feel motivated, but I was uncertain if what I was doing made sense. That’s the danger in analysis—better to do a thing and learn than to sit on your hands all day.

It reminded me of our conversation from a year ago. I had told Dad that I was planning on quitting my software job and pursuing a career as an artist and a personal trainer. I figured he would see it as a departure from his path, as throwing away a good career to pursue a foolish dream.

“Well, I think your plan makes sense,” he said to me. “I think you can do it. I don’t know much about either of those or social media or anything like that but I’m sure you’ll figure it all out.”

There’s rarely enough luck in the world to go around to have a dad like mine. I consider that there are some families which might disown you for not following in the family path and trying to become a doctor—or worse, becoming a doctor and deciding that you want to become a street performer. I’ve been blessed to have an incredible support structure. Dad recognizes that I’m going off on a limb, but he treats me with trust and respect to do the right thing and find my own success.

“Thanks, Dad,” I told him. I smashed through the rest of my lunch and got in the driver’s seat to move us away from the steep channel walls.

We rode out the rest of the day at the lake with a few more laps and plenty of breaks to take a dip and laze under the Bimini. The heat crawled in through the afternoon and we decided to call it around 2PM, ready for the toasty drive back through Tonto National Forest in the red minivan.