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Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Thirty Days of Photographs: Old



When I was eleven years old I had already spent many summers by the sea, and had learned all the important things like digging for worms and catching my own fish, and doing the puppy dog eyes at dad to make him clean it for me. And next, I wanted to learn how to drive a boat. My dad had a fast motorboat that I was dying to drive, but while I was pointing at the motorboat, my dad simply shook his head and pointed to this old, blue, rowboat, owned by my mother before me and her father before her. There was an old outboard motor attached to the appropriate end, but that was about it. I looked at it and shook my head. I wanted to learn how to drive the big boat. But dad wouldn’t give in, and eventually I just hopped into the rowboat. Aaand hopped out. The holes needed fixing first.

When the boat was sufficiently waterproof, I jumped in again and listened intently to everything dad told me about the outboard motor. Steer left, boat will go right, steer right, boat will go left. Simple enough. It took me about 72 tries to start the motor, though. But eventually I did learn to drive the thing, and I drove it everywhere, at staggering speeds capable of overtaking any wet cat out for a swim.

My mom and dad figured I was old enough to take care of my younger sister out at sea, and so our adventures begun. I’d drive, and she’d look out for underwater rocks, never shouting out in time. We drove from island to island, in to town for ice cream and back again. More often than not we’d run out of gas and have to row the boat several miles back. And if we didn’t run out of gas, someone had mysteriously taken our sparkplug, or forgotten to open the tank vent, or gotten rid of one of our oars. We were a menace out at sea, and if dad had known how and where I drove that boat, I’m not sure he would have let me do it.

I grew to really love that little old boat and the crappy motor. I promised myself I’d paint it some day, but now my brother has taken over ownership of the boat, and it’s still not painted. Dad did buy him a new motor, though, which you can see in the picture. The old held together only with love and duct tape and had to go when the propeller blades started to fall off.

I’m amazed that boat still floats, and something tells me it’ll still be floating long after I’m dead. *
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11 comments:

  1. Ziva, that's a great photo, but an even more extraordinary tale.  I hope you and your sis were expert swimmers!  It make me shiver to even think about what you did as kids.  I'm so glad you didn't capsize or get caught by pirates!

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  2. I love the contrast of the new motor against the aged boat. Perfect! I also love the image of you and your sister as reckless sea wenches!

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  3. I truly enjoyed this story about you and your sister. What lovely memories for you to have!

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  4. Yeah, I wouldn't have minded the new motor when I was a kid. It actually propels the boat forward instead of just acting as a dead weight to row around with.

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  5. It's amazing some of us lived after the things we did as kids. I still haven't told my own kids everything i got away with. Sometimes I swear I must have had horseshoes up my butt. Great story and great pic. I love the rocks next to the boat. 

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  6. I know, we're truly lucky to have those memories. And we're lucky we didn't get lost at sea, ;)

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  7. Well, we knew how to float, sort of. We were supposed to wear life vests, but occasionally we "forgot." Luckily, there are no pirates in Finland. However, if Captain Jack Sparrow happened to come upon me when I was out for a ride in my boat... Let's just say I wouldn't mind it. At all.

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  8. Hah, horseshoes up your butt, that's got to hurt. It really is amazing nothing bad ever happened. And this was before we had cell phones, so we'd just leave and mom would tell us to be home in four hours. You can drown about a million different ways in four hours, I'm just saying.

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  9. I would still be trying to start the thing.

    I loved the tale of two sisters and a boat.

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  10. Starting the thing was surprisingly hard, there were throttles, gearshifts, tank vents, gas line bulbs, chokes, chickens and all sorts of other stuff to keep track of. Luckily, I was a very intelligent 11-year old and learned it all in just a few hundred tries.

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