Chapter 43

At Greg's, David was trying to explain how he got back. The entire yard crew was playing the Peanut Gallery. Bleachers would have been nice ... theater seating would have been better. Greg had a huge map of Detroit and was pointing out David's errors.

"Yes. It would have been easier to take 16th to VanDyke," said David.

Greg was using his pencil like a conductors baton.

"I'd like to know why 16th street has Mile instead of Street?" David was looking for information.

"That's because 16th is way down here." Greg pointed. "16 Mile is 16 miles from downtown." He dragged his pencil across half the map.

"Erp."

"Who gave you the directions?"

"City cop named Murphy."

"What were they exactly?"

"Twenty six lights North, turn right, one block, turn left, you're there."

"That'll explain it," said Greg. "After the first few lights they're a mile apart."

"I went miles and miles out of the way?"

"Gratiot was the next light north," chuckled Greg.

"I came back the same way I got there."

"You could have asked," Greg suggested. Then he really looked at David. He saw a man pushing forty ... rather set in his ways ... asking directions? Not a chance.

"I would only have gotten lost. Other people don't get lost like I do.

"I did see Officer Murphy when I turned onto Woodward."

When the 1963 shiny red super stock Dodge was turning end over end, David saw a shadow.

When people drive they pay attention to side traffic ... and in residential areas ... children chasing balls into the street. A good driver looks at his mirrors, his speed, the traffic ahead, the traffic behind, intersections coming up, stop lights, tail lights. If a good driver talks to his passengers he doesn't look at them ... looking at the person in the back seat is the epitome of rude. He keeps the volume on the radio low enough that he can hear what's happening to the engine ... and he listens for sirens. He should always yield to emergency vehicles ... nobody ever said look up for low flying cars.

The sounds of a collision are distinct. It takes a millisecond to realize you weren't in the collision. You should always be ready to render assistance but immediately get out of the way when qualified help arrives.

As far as David and the Twins were concerned, what ever was happening at the corner of 16 Mile and Woodward didn't involve them. Their light was green and nobody hit their vehicle. Andrea had her head stuck in the sextant book and she didn't notice a thing. They weren't involved ... the police were on the scene.

All these things are all part of the safe handling of a car, truck or motorcycle. Most people don't notice what happens behind them.

There were a lot of police cars and a couple of wreckers and ambulances during their trip down Woodward to the river. The emergency vehicles were all going the other way. 'Not my problem, ' thought David ... and there was no reason it should be.

Woodward to East Jefferson. Left on Jefferson to Seminole and Greg's. Greg gave his lecture on Detroit streets, the crew applauded and went back to work.

The boat was already on the slings. Greg wound them up ... they moved the stands ... the boat was lowered in the water.

Andrea pulled money out of the volumetric purse ... Greg took out a couple of hundreds for Bitsie's painting and said, "I'll make a mint out of the airplanes, the engines and all that brass. Junior? It's been a pleasure. Andrea? Keep safe ... he's not that much older," he said cryptically. "Boys? ... eh..."

David shook hands ... they gave a manly hug..."If the Tigers were in town ... but they're not. We have a date with the fall ... and we have to be off Boston at the end of October."

The Knight was pumped, watered, dieseled and named. The crew boarded, Greg cast off. Lines were flaked, fenders hung to dry. Vents and fans running, David motored out of Greg's and turned right. They passed the south end of Belle Isle.

There came a southerly breeze. Sails set ... motors off, they sailed past the busy Detroit shoreline. The Twins, carrying bullhorns, pulled bow duty, warning off too close motorboats ... sail has right of way ... but it's not good to put your boat in danger arguing with the freighters. Junior was at the wheel paying close attention to her course and David was watching her like a hawk. Julia was talking as she was taking photographs and Andrea was taking advantage of her expertise.

Lakers were offloading at Zug Island. They sailed down river, passing Wyandot and Grosse Ile. Boblo Island Amusement Part was celebrating the season. All in all, 1963 was a pretty good summer.