The boat pulled away from the dock as the hot sun beats down and sizzled our pale faces. As the craft accelerated down the Ohio the air cooled and balanced out the heat of the sun. My family and I had just left a little town on the Ohio River known as Derby. As the boat leaped over waves from a nearby coal carrying barge my Dad announced to the family, “We are going down river to a town called Owensboro. We are going to use all the gas in Nauti Cruise to get there.” He then stated something that seemed very trivial but later on in the day was vital. “We are going to have to get gas once we get to Owensboro because it is 67 miles away and will take almost a full tank to get there”. My dad gave me a new perspective on Owensboro by reading some information about how it is the fourth largest city in Ohio, and how it has great shopping! In fact he said it was nick named “the market city”. Satisfied I turn up the radio and blasted some summer appropriate Rastafarian music.
We later stopped at a sandy peninsula where other fellow boaters were parked to eat. My younger brother and I played in the refreshing Ohio and swam in the current. After our break we decided to cruise onward. As I looked ahead, trees and power plants zipped by. I clenched the bow of my boat as we ramped more waves and water droplets splashed my face.
Around the corner above the tree tops I saw a small town. There were some office buildings but nothing even the size of a local Wal-Mart. I reminded myself that this must be a false alarm, that this can’t be the coined “Market City.” We saw a white dock where six boats were parked and men were standing. My mom automatically drove the boat up to the dock. My dad hopped off the bow to converse with the river rats. As my dad trudged back toward the end of the dock my mom met him with the boat. Unfortunately, it turned out that there was no gas there. He reassured the family that in fact this is “the Owensboro” and that there is gas around the corner, up river.
Worried we cruised on silently everyone secretly wondering if we will get back to the car later tonight. As we peaked around the bend we set out toward a small white makeshift dock. There was a floating piece of timber with an unstable gas pump falling off the side. There is a little note taped to the pump that stated, “Open from 6:00 p.m. to Dark.” My dad looks and noted it was only 3:30p.m.
As our family stood waiting for gas in silence. I looked around saw the sun on the opposite side of the sky. I saw a dead floating fish wiggle by while gigantic birds all gazed at it from over head. Finally my mom called for help in another town. A nice younger man carried gas cans full of fuel down the hill to our boat. As we waited the soldier, I heard on the radio, “Don’t worry about a thing, because every little thing is going to be alright,” I laid my head back on the boat cushion and felt completely satisfied.
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