Wendy K. Mages

Word count 837

I’m ten years old. My mom, my sister, and I are having dinner in Saugatuck, Michigan with another mom and her two boys. Saugatuck is an art colony filled with galleries of beautiful paintings and sculptures, but from a kid’s perspective, the best things about Saugatuck are the ice cream shop, the penny candy store, and the pedal boats. The pedal boats are so easy to steer, the adults let us kids go out on the river all by ourselves. We only go out for about 20 minutes, but it feels like freedom—no adults telling us what to do.

After dinner, we want to do something fun. The obvious choice is the pedal boats, but the boys’ mom says, “ No way.” It turns out, the boys’ dad, who isn’t even here, has a rule: No pedal boats. He thinks they’re too dangerous. We think this is ridiculous. My sister and I have been going out in the pedal boats for years. Besides, there are no police reports warning about the hazards of pedal boats. No newspaper headlines about pedal boat calamities on the Kalamazoo River. But it’s a no go. A rule is a rule.

So, we decide to go check out the little store on the other side of the river. We all go down to the dock and board the hand-cranked ferryboat. The ferryboat driver rings the bell and cranks us across the Kalamazoo. When we get to the other side of the river, we discover that we can rent a pontoon boat.

All we need to do to rent a pontoon boat is show a driver’s license. Each mom has one and there are no rules against pontoon boats. So, we’re golden!

The only caveat is “Don’t take the boat into Lake Michigan.” Who wants to take the boat into Lake Michigan? Besides, we only have an hour. It’ll take us 30 minutes to get to where the Kalamazoo feeds into Lake Michigan and 30 minutes to get back. We think this is great; we never get to go out for a full hour or go all the way to the lake with the pedal boats.

We all get on the pontoon boat, which is basically a raft with a small motor and a rickety canopy held up by four skinny poles. The only thing that fits under the canopy is the steering wheel, but only the moms can steer because they have drivers’ licenses. The moms get behind the wheel and off we go.

It’s a beautiful summer evening. We can see all the big boats up close and all the people hanging out on the docks. We’re having a terrific time!

When we get down to the lake, we turn around. As we head back, the wind kicks up. Dark clouds begin to fill the sky. I can see the moms are getting worried, which makes me nervous. The rain starts as a drizzle, then becomes a torrential downpour.

I know the moms are scared because we’re going full speed ahead, which, in this pontoon boat, means we’re now going maybe five miles an hour, with only the tiniest of tiny wakes.

One of the boys spots a sign, “Look! It says, ‘No wake zone, strictly enforced.’”

“We hope it is!” the moms say, wishing some boating authority will see our tiny wake and come to our rescue. No such luck. We go from low visibility to no visibility. We can’t see the big boats in front of us and I’m pretty sure they can’t see us either.

“Get down on the deck and hold onto each other!” the moms say. It’s clear they’re terrified that the tremendous force of the wind and rain might wash us off the side of the boat. As we sit huddled on the deck, holding on to each other for dear life, I keep thinking, “This would never have happened if we’d gone out for twenty minutes on the pedal boats!”

It really looks like this is not going to end well at all. Then, from out of the darkness, we see a dim yellow light. The moms struggle to steer the boat towards the light. As we get closer, we hear voices and see boaters standing on a dock. The boaters realize we’re clueless, and take pity on us. They help us tie the pontoon boat to the dock and get off the boat.

When we’re all safely off the boat, we realize that this dock belongs to a restaurant. Seeking shelter from the rain, we all head inside.

The people in the restaurant are really kind and want to help us. While some of them mop up the puddles we’re making, others bring us towels, little dish towels (because that’s all they have).

As we dry ourselves off and wait for the storm to pass, we can’t help but laugh at how weird it is that a dad’s rule designed to protect his sons from pedal boats, is to blame for the most perilous pontoon adventure of a lifetime.

Wendy is a Pushcart Prize nominee and award-winning poet, is a storyteller, educator, and researcher who earned a doctorate in Human Development and Psychology at the Harvard Graduate School of Education and a master’s in Theatre at Northwestern University. As a Professor at Mercy University, she researches the effect of the arts on learning and development. To complement her research, she performs original stories at storytelling events and festivals in the US and abroad. Please visit https://www.mercy.edu/directory/wendy-mages to learn more about her and her work and to find links to her published stories and poetry.