Simba

We had several small boats when I was growing up. Dad loved the water. One of our first was a small wooden boat. It had two openings, a front area for two adult passengers and a back area for two adult passengers. It was so small it had oars along the sides. It had no steering wheel but was turned by the direction of the motor. My mother hated the water. She was actually scared of it. She rarely went out in our boats and she never went out on this one.

All our stiff, smelly orange life preservers were tucked in under the bow. Dad never wore one but he made sure that Mark, David and I did. One time we went fishing with my dad and his friend, Roger. It was a small boat so we never went far out in the Bay but fished just out of the river. Around the corner from the mouth of the Bay, is the Consumers Energy plant, where dad and Roger both worked. Consumers used to release steam from the power plant into an area known as the ‘hot beds.’ EVERYONE liked to fish in the hot beds or near them because the fish LOVED the hot beds. The area was a bit like a cove. You were only out on the Bay for about ¼ mile to get into the hot beds.

This particular day the Perch were biting like crazy. A storm was coming and for some reason the fish were plentiful. None of us were watching the sky when suddenly the air turned and the sky went black as pitch. A summer squall! A summer squall and we were on the water, this would be bad very bad. Roger told my dad we better head in. Dad wasn’t worried because the waters in the hot bed weren’t rocking much and the rain hadn’t started yet. Once he turned the boat out to the Bay, that all changed. That was when he realized that there was a huge storm and we were in it. We only had to go ¼ mile on the Bay to get to the river and then less than a mile to get to the boat launch but we weren’t going anywhere.

They wind had come up and the rains came down. The waves were over 8’ and our boat was being tossed about like a toy in the bathtub. Dad ordered all three of us into the bow, down where the jackets were stored. Roger put on a life jacket. We were crying because dad wouldn’t put one on. Actually, he couldn’t because none of them fit him. For 20 minutes we tried to get to the mouth of the river. We were very close to shore, which made the danger a bit surreal. There were times that the boat was at the crest of the wave and nearly stood straight on end. We were terrified. Dad had shouted to Roger that he would drop Roger and ‘the kids’ off at Consumers, take the boat on himself and come back for us with the truck. My brother’s and I went into hysterics. There was NO way we were leaving him. Eventually, dad was able to maneuver the small boat into the river. On the river the water was choppy but nothing like it had been on the Bay.

We found the boat launch and got the boat loaded. Dad only had a small pickup so he and Roger were up in the cab; my brother’s and I were in the box of the pickup and thankful that this week, dad had the cap on the truck. It was summer but we were freezing! It was another short mile and a half to drop off Roger and then eight houses down the road to our house. Dad left the boat hooked up. Thunder and lightning were crashing about us. We just wanted in the house. Dad came around to the back of the truck and lifted the door. Before he let us out he said, “Don’t tell your mother.” 

My father’s “Don’t tell your mother” was akin to any redneck saying “Hold my beer” but dad’s comment used to come after a ‘hold my beer’ moment, not before.

Another such “Don’t tell your mother” moment came with Simba. We eventually move up to a 16’ Seacraft that my brothers and I dubbed, Simba. There was a 1970’s cartoon called, ‘Sea Lab’ and they had a pet Killer Whale named Simba. The first time we took our white aluminum boat with the green under belly out on the Bay and rode the waves, she was named.

Simba was a real boat. She had a canvas top that could be flipped down. She had a real windshield and a steering wheel. There was a small metal railing around the bow and I was allowed to sit up front, on the bow, holding the railing and ride the waves. She had a real cool CB radio and a special scanner for picking up radio stations. Fishing became a whole lot more fun on Simba. Simba could pull someone skiing but although dad tried, none of us could master the art. Instead, we were towed behind on tubes or air mattresses. We had great fun on that boat.

We got her in April of 1970 something. It was really too soon to be out on the water but dad was so anxious to try her out; we headed out one mild sunny day. It was cold enough that we were in snow boots and heavy coats. My poor dad, trying to launch a 16’ boat with three little kids, somehow we got her in the water. Dad sent me to the bow to sit up near the railing and call out when I saw logs or ice in the water. He was only going to take her to the mouth of the Bay and come back. He just couldn’t wait anymore. I was young but I realized how dangerous this was and how dangerous my position was. IF I didn’t see a log and dad hit it, I could be tossed into the freezing water. Still, I was having fun and enjoying the day.

We eventually got to the mouth and turned around. Simba was much bigger than the last boat and dad had never launched her or loaded her. Eventually and way before I had my driver’s license, it was easier for my dad to have me back the truck up until he said stop and pull it back up to park it, then to hope I could hold the boat as it slipped off the trailer. But today, he was struggling with three children and cold April weather.

The three of us held the boat where told us to while he back the truck & trailer into the water. He was on the dock and trying to line the boat up over the trailer and he kept stepping on children, well, David mostly. 

David was about six. Dad kept shouting, “Back up, dammit, David, back up.” This went on for a while until we heard a loud splunk sound. We all turned and David was gone. Dad had backed poor David up, snowmobile boots and all, right off the end of the dock. Dad took a second to realize that David had gone off the end of the dock and under water. All he said, was, “Dammit” he handed me the rope for the boat and went to the ripples. He knelt down on the dock and reached into the water. A second later, there was David’s head, popping up through the stinky, freezing Saginaw River. The minute he was above water he was screaming. No coughing or spitting, just screaming. My dad started laughing. He had David by the hair. He grabbed David’s heavy winter coat with his other hand and pulled him out of the water. David was still screaming and my dad was still laughing. Dad tossed David into the boat. Then he looked at Mark and tossed him in too. Dad stood laughing, looking at David totally soaked and screaming his head off. Then my dad stopped laughing, looked at me and said, “Don’t tell your mother."