The
Cottage Next Door Issue 2
Taking a cruise on the Riviera By Charles R.
Ratliff
We
took a cruise on the Riviera the other day. Not that Riviera. The one my father-in-law bought two years ago to
replace the aging blue Titanic, which he ended up selling last year.
The
Riviera is a pontoon boat; rather, it’s a Riviera
Cruiser. It had belonged to the owner of the cottage from whom we purchased
and was part of a package deal.
We
got the cottage; Dad got the Riviera Cruiser.
I’m
not saying he got the better end of the deal, just that it didn’t matter who
bought the pontoon boat, the family – all of us – still use the boat one way or
another.
When
we used to try and take the Titanic pontoon boat for a ride, my wife Biz, and I
never had much luck getting it started. Like the one time Biz took the keys
when no one was around and we headed out Dad’s pier, running the length like a
couple of high school kids taking our parent’s car.
“C’mon,
hurry up!” my wife exclaimed as we tossed the vests aboard while I began
lowering the lift. As I cranked on the wheel, she sat in the pilot’s chair,
inserted the key, and adjusted the throttle and gearshift levers. Just as the
pontoon boat began floating free of the lift, she turned the key and cranked
the motor over.
And
cranked. And cranked. At first, the motor seemed to cough to life, giving us
hope for a cruise around the lake. I pushed the boat free of its lift . . .
“Wait!”
my wife screamed. “I don’t have it started yet!” I jumped aboard as the boat
drifted away from the pier, and began to rotate in a slow, lazy circle. With no
tide or wake, we just drifted 360 degrees while my wife frantically tried to
start the Titanic.
She
cranked again, and again, and again. Finally, she pounded her fists on the
steering wheel.
“This
thing will never start!”
“Can
I help you?” We looked up, and there stood Dad, on the end of the pier, his
hands on his waist, a smile on his lips. I jumped out of the boat and into the
waist-deep water, which was okay, because I was wearing my swimsuit and crocks.
I pushed the boat to the pier so Dad could get on.
He
shooed Biz out of the seat while I climbed aboard. I held the boat steady so
that it wouldn’t rock against the pier.
Dad
adjusted the levers ever so slightly, ran his hands over the steering wheel, in
a gentle caress, and touched the key. With a slight jerk of the wrist, the
engine roared to life. I pushed the boat away from the pier and jumped on as it
idled toward deeper water.
“Figures,”
Biz said, sarcastically.
“You
just have to have the right touch,” Dad said, winking at his daughter, a smile
faintly twisting the edges of his mouth.
Later
that evening, my wife gave me the ultimatum.
“You
have to learn how to start that boat,” she said.
“Me?
Why Me?”
“It
just doesn’t speak to me,” Biz said.
“We
know it runs,” I replied. “Dad starts it all the time.”
“It’s
a guy’s boat,” she said. “It only talks to guys.”
“Un-huh,” I acknowledged, trying to understand
the subtle implication my wife was trying to make.
“If
you could get Dad to teach you how to start the pontoon boat, then we could
ride it anytime we want,” she said.
The
next year, Dad bought the Riviera Cruiser, and he was reluctant to sell that
old Titanic, so we parked it next to our pier so that we could use it rather
than borrow Dad’s new one.
True
to her word, I asked Dad to show me how to start it. With Biz watching, and
after half a dozen tries, old Titanic started for me. It took some coaxing the
old girl, but my wife and I took that Titanic out for several spins around the
lake last summer.
Each
time we went out, however, that old blue pontoon boat seemed sad that Dad was
not sitting in the driver’s seat. It seemed sluggish, slow, and all-around felt
like an unhappy boat.
Then,
life intervened, and we jumped back on the jet skis while Titanic sat beside
our pier, neglected until the water level decreased to the point where she
would not budge off the lift. When we finally did get Titanic off the lift, it
was time to put her away in storage. When next she came out, Dad sold her off.
Last
year was the first year without the Titanic, and Biz, ever in for a pontoon
boat ride, took the keys to the Riviera, again. We climbed aboard the newer
tan-and-red cruiser, with vinyl seats, a seating capacity of 12, and an actual
canopy to protect us from the blinding Indiana sun. Biz sat in the soft,
luxurious captain’s chair, inserted the key, set the levers, and cranked.
Immediately the boat roared to life!
“Now
this is a girl’s boat!” she exclaimed, as I lowered the lift and pushed the
boat free of the pier. We cruised the lake and had so much fun, riding Dad’s
boat, just her and I.
Until
that day the storm came.
Black
clouds darkened the southwestern horizon. As the westerly wind blew across the
lake, dropping an inch of rain in the first ten minutes, a microburst came out
of nowhere. Thick branches fell into yards, trees toppled, and piers twisted.
The power went out, and stayed out, for nearly three days.
That
heavy wind tumbled the Riviera Cruiser off its lift, flipping it over and back
again, tearing the seats from the floor, and tossing them into the lake.
After
it was over, we went out to look for the pontoon boat. Biz, Becca, and Colton
took the jet skis and found the Cruiser over by the wetlands. When it was
dragged back, part of its metal siding was hanging loose, and it was missing
three of its four seats, which we found on our neighbor’s meander land by the
sand bar, just around the point.
It
took weeks, but Biz and Dad managed to make repairs to the Riviera. We put the
seats back after draining and drying them out. We took the damaged metal skin
off; we haven’t managed to put it back on, so, part of the Riviera’s side still
look like a skeleton.
But
the boat runs. And we went for a cruise the other day. Dad drove, and several
family riders filled the boat nearly to capacity. Dad looked happy as he
captained his Cruiser around the lake, even getting it up to speed.
The
memory of that old blue Titanic is fading, but a new love for the Riviera
Cruiser has taken its place in our hearts.
Anyone
for a pontoon boat ride?
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