When I was but a lad in High School my friend (Mr. Smith) and I decided to head to nearby El Dorado Lake and do some camping and fishing with his parents and little brother. We were taking their Bass Boat too. Now I have been in many boats but at this time, I had no idea of the ins and outs of the whole boat vehicle.
Well as was the norm with Mr. Smith and his kin, we had all day to go and didn’t get moving until late. This gets us to the late at dusk.
Dusk.
What a wonderful time to be setting up camp and putting a boat into the lake.
OK so we back the truck and trailer down to the lake using a combination of flashlights, lanterns, fireflies and good ol’ fashioned luck.
His dad backs the trailer TOO far and sinks the trailer into the lake. Oh well.
We just use that as an opportunity to unfasten the boat and let it float free.
Luckily, the truck and trailer are able to pull free from the lakes pull and off his dad and brother go to the campsite.
Mr. Smith and I hop in this bass boat and head off into the dark murky depths of El Dorado Lake.
We are tooling down the lake with Mr. Smith piloting our excursion when I realize...
“Hmm my foot is sloshy?”
I look down with my flashlight and see that my foot is resting in a couple of inches of water.
“There’s some water here.” I yell over the motor to my bud.
“That’s normal.” he yells back and grins a big toothy grin.
I let my flashlight follow this trail of water back to the back of the boat and there I see about 2 feet of water. Moreover, it’s growing!
I tap him on the arm and gesture to the back with the flashlight.
“Is that normal too?” I asked, genuinely interested in the answer.
“FUCK” was his retort.
Then the rational thinking kicks him.
“OK if I go really fast to the campsite that should drag the water out of the boat and get us there quicker.”
“Quicker?” I ask
“Yeah before we sink!”
“FUCK” was my retort (I am quick like that.)
So, off down the lake we go but this scientific principal is just not working as I watch the back of the boats rail and the lake getting closer and closer together.
SIDENOTE: Stuff like this would happen to us on a regular basis so neither of us was panicking. We were both acting rather nonchalant, like sinking in a boat in the middle of a lake was an everyday occurrence for both of us.
Pretty soon, it is rather apparent that this is not working at all. It was at that time I noticed (my shins now under water) a small black doo-hickey floating past me.
“What’s this thingy?” I asked Mr. Smith as I hold it up to the light to see it better.
“That would be the boat plug” He yells back over the straining motor.
“EW.” I yell and drop it back into the water “What the hell is it doing in the boat?”
“I said BOAT plug you dipshit” He laughs back at me. “We forgot to put it in!”
Therefore, while Captain Smith pilots our soon to be submarine it is now my job to try to reinsert the BOAT plug into the hole.
It’s dark, I am drenched, and standing in 3 feet of rising water, trying to insert this little plug into a hole, I do not or have never seen before in my life.
“IT WONT GO IN!” I scream to him.
“Don’t Panic!” He yells back “just keep trying!”
“I’m not panicking! I am in the process of drowning in a boating accident!” I yell back but diligently go back to trying to find this hidden hole.
With resignation, I give up on trying to stay remotely dry and really get down there with both hands and finally find this mysterious hole and insert the plug. Quite pleased with myself I drop back into my seat and give Mr. Smith th3e thumbs up. Mission accomplished.
“Go take it back out now!” He yells to me.
“WHAT?!”
“Go take it out and I will go really fast to drain the water out”
“That doesn’t work!”
“This time it will. Just do it”
So back to the water-laden stern I go mumbling to myself about magical plugs who defy physics and morons driving boats fast, etc, etc.
We then spent the next 15 minutes with me inserting and removing this boat plug as “speed racer” tries all kinds of speeds and figure eights and loop-de-loops, trying to draw this lake back out of the boat. We give up our shenanigans and I reinsert the plug one final time. As I plop down back into my seat wet and tired and cold and wet some more. My bud, Mr. Smith then reaches over and flips a switch on the dashboard and a loud humming noise starts up from the back of the boat.
“What the hells that noise?” I ask swiping my head back and forth trying to find the source.
“That’s just the pump.” He replies.
“The pump?” I ask back turning slowly to face him, my eyes becoming slits and my lips tightening into a straight line.
“Yeah! It’s a bilge pump to remove water from the boat.”
We drove in silence the rest of the way to the campsite.
