Short Story
Ally Wimer
Spoto
English 31
5 February 2013
Man vs. Fishing Boat It was a cloudy summer day, the first week in June following my high school graduation. I was meeting my boyfriend and his family out on Shasta Lake who were enjoying the week on a houseboat. This would be the first time meeting all his aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. I did not expect for the meeting to end up like this. Brandon, my boyfriend, and his younger cousin, Jake, picked me up at Packers Bay in the ski boat. It was a chilly morning and I was in shorts and tank top and had only my towel to keep me warm. The boys forgot where the houseboat was parked in the lake. We spent the next hour and half searching the entire area of Shasta Lake for their houseboat. “Brandon, just call your mom and ask where they’re at,” I mentioned as an idea. “Embarrassing as it is, I guess I will,” Brandon sighed. He called his mom, and the first thing she said, “Your lost aren’t you?” Mothers know everything. We finally found our way to the houseboat. We climbed out of the boat, and one after another, each family member said their hellos and each gave me a very welcoming hug. I felt like family already. We sat in the houseboat for about 30 minutes socializing and eating breakfast, when Brandon’s dad, Gary, decided to tell us we were moving the houseboat to a different spot for the day. Moving the houseboat is a lot more challenging than just one boat because the Connolly’s also had two jet skies, the ski boat and an old tin fishing boat (which wasn’t even registered). “Brandon, you and Ally take the ski boat. Jake, you hop in the fishing boat and the girls got the jet skies. Get out in front and lead the way to another cove,” Gary said with much authority. So Brandon and I jumped in the ski boat and drove out way past the houseboat waiting for everyone to get situated. Jake, 15 at the time took control of the tin fishing boat. We all figured that he had driven a boat like that before,
Spoto
English 31
5 February 2013
Man vs. Fishing Boat It was a cloudy summer day, the first week in June following my high school graduation. I was meeting my boyfriend and his family out on Shasta Lake who were enjoying the week on a houseboat. This would be the first time meeting all his aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. I did not expect for the meeting to end up like this. Brandon, my boyfriend, and his younger cousin, Jake, picked me up at Packers Bay in the ski boat. It was a chilly morning and I was in shorts and tank top and had only my towel to keep me warm. The boys forgot where the houseboat was parked in the lake. We spent the next hour and half searching the entire area of Shasta Lake for their houseboat. “Brandon, just call your mom and ask where they’re at,” I mentioned as an idea. “Embarrassing as it is, I guess I will,” Brandon sighed. He called his mom, and the first thing she said, “Your lost aren’t you?” Mothers know everything. We finally found our way to the houseboat. We climbed out of the boat, and one after another, each family member said their hellos and each gave me a very welcoming hug. I felt like family already. We sat in the houseboat for about 30 minutes socializing and eating breakfast, when Brandon’s dad, Gary, decided to tell us we were moving the houseboat to a different spot for the day. Moving the houseboat is a lot more challenging than just one boat because the Connolly’s also had two jet skies, the ski boat and an old tin fishing boat (which wasn’t even registered). “Brandon, you and Ally take the ski boat. Jake, you hop in the fishing boat and the girls got the jet skies. Get out in front and lead the way to another cove,” Gary said with much authority. So Brandon and I jumped in the ski boat and drove out way past the houseboat waiting for everyone to get situated. Jake, 15 at the time took control of the tin fishing boat. We all figured that he had driven a boat like that before,