Chapter 63

The First race wasn’t ... it was Saturday ... qualifications ... The North American Continent has 495 Lightning Clubs ... a club generally has several boats ... umh ... with more than 15 thousand boats in class ... you bet there’s several. We had heat races ... as many as can be held with a two and a half hour time limit each race. Most races are over in an hour and a half. Captain Kidd was an expert ... and it didn’t make a damn bit of difference that one of his new crew just barely knew what water was ... we raced to his qualification.

We kept up ... it was scary ... but trapezes aren’t allowed so we weren’t dangling over the water. However ... hiking straps are allowed ... we got wet.

Lo and behold ... we had to come back Sunday ... we didn’t win Saturday ... but due to a series of unfortunate events on the part of others ... we placed. A few of the ‘unfortunate’ events resulted in fisticuffs.

The wet suits we wore Saturday stayed home Sunday ... damn things weigh a ton when wet ... and we were wet ... bunches.

Sunday, it was our turn to run afoul of the rules ... to wit; NO PART OF A COMPETING SAILBOAT SHALL TOUCH THE START LINE BEFORE THE START (Thou shall not be early to the line.) ... a millisecond in advance of the gun across the line resulted in a sharp protest and we had to circle back and start again ... picky picky picky. What was too bad about the call ... it took minutes to review the startline video. Guilty ... we had to go back.

We were not alone in the retreat. That was why the review took so long. Thirty three boats make for a thrilling start ... all bunched together and stealing the air ... legal high jinks.

Not being in the mass of boats we had clean air and caught up rapidly. A mass of boats really disturb the air astern ... catching up was easy ... that’s as far as we got. We did finish within time ... less than 15 minutes behind the leader. Commendable.

When it was over ... Captain Kidd got his damage deposit back ... we killed no boats or competitors. He took us out for dinner ... by popular aclaim we went to Il Forno on East Grand. Two of us had been ... Abby and Captain Kidd. It was great ... very Italian ... thick crust deep dish with the kitchen sink ingredients. Oddly ... we three like anchovies.

Discussion included the local regattas.

“Boyne City, Holland, Traverse City, Fenton, Charlevoix, Bay City and Higgins Lake in country. If you don’t mind the travel there are 11 clubs in the FED A within a days run. A day could put us in Toronto.”

“What else do you do?” Abby asked.

“Trust Fund kid.”

“Ah.”

“Selene?”

“Flintkote Industries.”

“What is that?”

“International Business Consortium... 86 countries world wide. The bosses say I get in the way.”

“But ... what do you do?”

“Fly, sail, race, build Dr-1’s ... trust fund.”

Abby said, “I miss my aircraft.”

“What,” I asked.

“I had a few SNJ’s, some F8F’s and an F7F.”

“I have a two seat Skyraider at the airport. Wanna go up? Tripped your trigger I see.”

She was pushing away from the table before I finished the ‘Wanna.’