Ask anyone that I sail with. Go ahead, ask them. They'll tell you that the majority of the time I'm on the water I'm complaining about motorboats. I don't distinguish between them: fishing boats, commercial trawlers, tankers, tugs, jetskis, ferries. They're all the same. My enemies. And an affront to all that is sailing.
But, that's when I'm sailing. When I'm at my cousin's house and he says, "hey let's take the kids out for a ride", I'm in. His own boat is at the shop right now (hey, another example of what's wrong with stinkpots) but he has a friend's Boston Whaler using his dock. So we hopped on and went for a ride.
Man o man, this was pure fishbilly. Arthur took us out the canal and past the Larkspur ferry terminal, then he opened her up. The two boys and I hung onto a line on the bow and screamed and hollered as we bounced over the waves at a speed that sailboats don't go.
This thing only has a 90HP engine and take a look at this wake:
If you can see that ferry in the distance, it was our playpen. As we approached San Quentin, we saw it approaching. Arthur said, hang on we're going for the wake. We bounced over it, zoomed across it and did everything that angers me when I'm sailing. But I had such a big grin I was worried I'd catch flies in my mouth.
The boys had obviously done this before, they had it down. Wave to the ferry, try to get a guard at San Quentin to wave back, yell to their Dad when to speed up. It was cool and exciting.
The youngest took us home from the start of the no-wake zone and expertly maneuvered us through the canal without hitting one other boat/bridge/houseboat. Very nice post-dinner ride. And the best part? Dessert was waiting when we got back!