100 Yard Doosh
Doug Nelson
Spring of 1960 was the beginning of an exciting year. I was never very good at any one thing so I tried to make up for it by being the loudest, the most daring, the coolest person I knew. In retrospect I did succeed at being the best in one area, The Dumbest.
My Uncle Kenny bought a beauty of a boat that year, it had a 100 HP mercury outboard Which at that time was huge. He brought it to Martin Park one Sunday afternoon where we all took turns water skiing. I watched as everyone took their turn because being true to my nature I wanted to out-do everyone else. I had seen people take off from a seated position on a dock in the past, so that is how I would begin my extravaganza. I told Uncle Kenny to take the slack out of the ski rope then give it full power. I sat on the end of the dock going over just how this would look and not paying any attention to the partially exposed nail head I was sitting on. The ski rope was almost taunt when I heard the roar of the out board. The rope pulled me off the dock as I stood up. With all the adrenalin rushing through my system I didn’t feel the tug on my swimming trunks as I left the dock. As I began to feel more comfortable on the skis I motioned to Uncle Kenny to give it all she had. As He eased the throttle forward I could feel the ski rope get taunt as my skis slapped the top of the waves.
Kenny began a long high speed turn and I maneuvered the skis to the outside of the turn, and I could feel my speed increase again. This time I over compensated on the position of my skis and my feet flew out from under me and I sat on the water. At that speed I could feel the river water rush up my butt with a vengeance.
Uncle Kenny slowed the boat and came back around to bring the ski rope back within my reach. I could feel the pressure in my lower abdomen but I could not discharge the pressure in the normal way so I grabbed the rope as it came by and continued skiing. As the uncomfortable pressure continued I decided to put an end to the extravaganza. As Kenny made his final turn back towards Martin Park dock again I pulled to the outside to increase my speed. My plan was to release the rope and ride the skis to the shore line, step off and take a bow.
The plan went as laid out until I hit the sand on the shore, at that point my skis stopped abruptly and my body maintained its forward momentum. My feet made a sucking sound as they jettisoned the rubber foot holders attached to the skis. I flew about 20 feet and landed head first in front of several by-standers. With my butt pointed toward the clouds all that pressure finally escaped sending a jet of river water into the air. The choir of bi-standers screamed in unison as they all scrambled to get out of the way. Peggy, standing a few yards away yelled “SAFE”. It was at that point Gayle came over holding a piece of cloth that looked remarkably similar to the swimming trunks I was wearing.
Still a bit dazed I managed to get to my feet as Peggy came over to inquire if I was ok. “Sure” I said “want to see it again?” To which Peggy replied “Which part, the flight of the Phoenix, or Old Faithfull?”
