As some of you know, this past summer I restored my dad's 1961 Hydrodyne, engine, hull and all. Here is the true story I just finished writing from the whole experience. Enjoy! Labor Day, 2012…a day that memories came alive, dreams became reality, and new adventures began! Growing up, I did not experience a luxurious lifestyle. Our house was modest and most of the neighbors were careful to keep an eye out for each other. If anyone had a valuable keepsake, it was kept in a safe or hidden well out of sight. Mom had a beautiful antique vase that was tastefully displayed on a petite table in the living room. However, the stray kitten we adopted masterfully disassembled the artifact into a thousand little pieces! My dad’s precious collectable was a seventeen foot 1961 Hydrodyne speed boat. Yes, it was hidden from sight, but not because of its value. Most of the neighborhood felt that a yard ornament like that was not a cherished possession to be displayed for all to see. I on the other hand couldn’t disagree more. You see, this weather beaten, seldom used fiberglass bucket held stories of days spent on a crystal blue lake, where time stood still and troubles melted away. Dad spent his childhood summers on the Northport, Michigan shoreline. To say he had everything a child could ask for would be an understatement. His father had built a cabin on the beach which later became a most enchanted summer home for the Wentworth family. A boathouse next door, which matched the architecture of the house, protected many fine vessels. If dad ever grew tired of the wind and waves, he could simply hike down the road to the families’ gun club and shoot a round or two of skeet with a buddy. Summer days were filled with puddle duck races and refreshing swims. Dad was known for giving waster skiers a tow behind his one of a kind fiberglass speed boat. After a long day of exhausting play, the kids down the road would find themselves at the Wentworth house where ice cream had just been flown in on the company plane and delivered to the only private soda fountain in the neighborhood. Of course, the local ice cream shop was not as “sweet” on the fountain as the children were! Northport in the ‘50s and ‘60s was a special place to be. Dad was blessed with things most children only dreamed of. But, unlike never ending childhood hours, time marches on as we all grow older. With that comes responsibility and unforeseen changes in life. Families grow and people move on. And so it was with my father. However, one thing kept moving along with dad, his boat. Both the Captain and his vessel traveled from Michigan to Ohio to Arizona to Florida and finally to Pennsylvania. This old boat baked in the desert sun for a decade and then roasted in the Florida sun almost two decades more. It weathered two hurricanes in the south and quite a few snow storms in the North. Of course, that all happened on land. When dad accepted a job in Pennsylvania, I begged him not to sell his precious traveling bathtub. After much persuasion, he gave in and agreed to haul it on an 18 hour trip up to the great White North. Again, it sat for another six lonesome years in the rolling hills of Western Pennsylvania. Then, one day, everything changed. I had just graduated from college and owned little to my name. Dad again decided it was time to say farewell to the boat. Only this time, he figured it would be the perfect graduation gift for me! So he cheerfully handed me the keys and said, “Do what you want with it, it’s yours.” So can you guess what happened next? That’s right; it sat in the driveway for another ten years. From time to time I would tinker with the engine, but with a family and financial responsibilities, I quickly realized why this boat saw more land than water. Little by little, my wife and I saved up some “dream” money for a future family fun activity. About ten years later, God blessed us with the ability to make our dream a reality. I decided to restore the boat and honor my dad. So, through the spring and summer of 2012, I worked non-stop on the restoration. Early mornings were filled with endless fiberglass sanding followed by long work days of irritable itchiness. Many evenings were consumed with fabrication and research. Finally, the day of surprise arrived. With a lot of preparation and help from family and friends, the plan was put into action. We would meet at the local lake and christen the boat for its’ maiden voyage. Meanwhile, mom would cleverly coax dad into a relaxing drive to a lakeside respite. With much excitement, my friends and I launched the boat in a quiet and protected cove. As I stepped off the dock and into the boat, a flood of emotions overcame me. However, no words can express the joy in my heart as I saw dad’s reaction to the surprise of a lifetime! As dad pulled into the parking lot, I could see the puzzlement in his eyes. But as the unmistakable 1960’s engine hood came into focus, a quirky grin appeared on his face. Could it really be? Was that old yard ornament actually floating in the water? As his eyes remained fixed on this mysterious sight, I walked over to the car and helped him to his feet. The short walk to the dock provided me the time to assure dad that he wasn’t dreaming. Finally, after decades removed from childhood summers of endless play, dad would once again experience the pleasures of motorized fiberglass cutting through crystal blue waters. But this was not the end of the surprise. After everyone had taken their ride, we moored the boat to the dock and gathered under an old maple tree. I asked dad what he thought, and immediately he began to tell us of childhood memories. As he continued, I interrupted and said, “There’s more to come!” Again with a look of puzzlement he said, “Boy, this day is full of surprises!” “Yes” I said. “In a week, we will take a trip to Michigan and you will drive me around where you grew up.” With tears in his eyes he said, “You mean…Northport?” “Yes, and the boat is going with us.” So the following week we all traveled to Michigan, where we stayed at the exquisite Tamarac Lodge of Traverse City. Dad’s sister arrived first from Colorado, followed by me and my family and my brother from Philadelphia. As we waited for my parents to arrive, my aunt joyfully reminisced about days gone by. Finally my parents pulled into the Lodge’s parking lot and my aunt quickly hid herself in one of the three bedrooms in our lush retreat. Dad and mom exited the car and were immediately taken with the beauty of the rustic, yet modern architecture of the lodge. As we all entered the towering wooden doors, pictures of Northern Michigan and old restored nautical engines captured our attention. We then proceeded to our unit on the third floor. The decorations were most appealing and the living room very welcoming. However, the balcony provided the best attraction of the lodge, a spectacular view of the Grand Traverse Bay. As we stepped outside, the sound of the waves lapping on the shoreline moved us into a welcome relaxation. Then, I took dad on a tour of the rest of the unit. He opened one of the bedroom doors, and to his surprise, his sister greeted him with a big hug. That evening we all enjoyed listening to their childhood memories. In the morning we packed lightly for a fun day out on the lake. The boat was hooked up to the truck and away we went, traveling scenic Route 22. As we followed the shoreline, the crystal blue water glistened brightly under a sunny sky. Months ago, my aunt contacted a childhood friend who still lives in the community of Northport Point. Although dad’s house was down the beach from “The Point”, he and his siblings enjoyed every summer with friends from “The Point”, boating, golfing, swimming, playing tennis, shooting, and horseback riding. Graciously, my aunts’ friend made “The Point” accessible to our family. So, we respectfully entered the gates of the community and toured the grounds by car. We came to the club house where we got out and walked up to the boat ramp. As we approached the dock, dad lifted up his arm and pointed to a bright red building far across the bay. There stood the boathouse that once held the boat behind my truck! And next to it stood a picturesque house, perfectly positioned in the most charming location anyone could imagine. As dad described his daily childhood activities, it was very easy to place myself in his shoes. Everything I heard about as a child was now more vivid than ever! While dad continued to reminisce, mom was inside the clubhouse talking to a resident who was picking up his daily mail. Through their conversation, the man realized that he knew my dad in childhood. They made their way to the boat and met dad and me. After a jubilant reunion the gentleman said to me, “I thought this boat looked familiar. This was the first fiberglass boat I ever rode in!” Wow, what a great feeling this was for me! Finally, someone outside our family who could appreciate our uncommon treasure! Finishing our tour, we headed to the Northport community boat launch. There we shoved off and took our first ride on the waters of Michigan. Perhaps it’s just me, but the boat seemed to respond as though it needed no steering; as if it knew exactly what course it should take. Within twenty minutes we found ourselves drifting only a few hundred yards off shore from the big red boat house. Again, both brother and sister traded summertime stories of fun in the sun. Daylight would soon be gone, so we headed back to the boat launch. By the time we unloaded the passengers, we realized there was still enough daylight to take a quick pleasure ride out into the bay. So, dad, my aunt, and I took off into the big blue yonder. Dad urged me to pick up some speed, but I was nervous, knowing that I had never gotten the boat to plane out. With the hounding of the two other passengers, I gave it full throttle. The bow quickly rose out of the water and then gently laid down on the surface. What a rush! As all four cylinders of the rebuilt BB70 Volvo Penta engine roared, the boat glided across the bay as though it were on ice. My arms were raised with my hands clinched tightly in the air. A shout of great enthusiasm rang out from my lips! My aunt exclaimed, “Now this is how I remember it!” Dad proclaimed, “It runs as good as it ever did!” Meanwhile, my wife captured the whole event on video from the shore as she and my daughter and brother looked on with excitement. When we settled in for the evening back at the lodge, we relived the new memories made while reclining around a bonfire on the beach. The smores were delightful and the conversation most refreshing. The following morning we once again took off for Northport to travel down memory lane. First, we stopped off the side of the road beside a grove of cherry trees. This was a favorite spot to hang out and enjoy some of natures’ delicious rewards. We then made our way to one of dad’s most cherished memories, the family gun club. Yes, my grandfather built his own gun club including a club house, high and low house, trap house, and fully paved stations. Years past, “The Point” acquired the facility and has kept it manicured ever since. Fortunately, my aunt’s friend was the president of the gun club and kindly offered to run the machines as we shot a round of skeet and trap. Using his model 21 Winchester from childhood, dad masterfully took down many clay targets. The time quickly passed and soon we were headed to our final destination. Only a few hundred yards down the road stood the elegant family house nestled behind the trees. My aunt had called the owner the previous day and left a message that we would be in town. I approached the front door and rang the bell. The owner opened the door and greeted us with a big smile. She was delighted to see us and invited us to come in and tour her home. This was quite an honor to be welcomed with such hospitality. She escorted us through each room. The untouched original pinewood adorned the entire house. Every window had a million dollar view of the lake. As we walked along the Caribbean-like beach which the house overlooked, I thought, this must be the most beautiful place I have ever seen. Dad was right. He was blessed with more than I could imagine. We warmly expressed our appreciation to the owner for her kindness and said farewell to the earthly paradise. With much rejoicing, our family returned to the lodge for a final evening of bonfires and memories. To this day, dad talks about what he experienced and what it all means to him. I am thankful to God for His blessings and provision which made it possible to honor my dad in this way. My prayer is that this story may encourage someone else to go the extra mile for a special person in their life. Now, by God’s grace, I will never have to say, “I wish I would have.”
One of the coolest boat stories I have read. Love the "traveling bathtub" description! Last paragraph and last sentence is the best!
That is a great story. I bought our 18 in 1990 when my daughter was a teenager. I converted it to an outboard in the late 90's. It lives inside,and only goes out when she visits once a year. We have spent many hours together water skiing. She was national champion swivel skier in 2004. We have many happy memories too. jim
