Coming to Grips with My Uncle Bob

Did I ever tell you about the time I drove a jet ski up a steep rock?  No?

Well, no one tells it better than my Uncle Bob.  I certainly don’t tell it well because I cannot, for all the carp in Bull Frog Marina, remember exactly what happened. 

When I was nine or seven, I had glasses as thick as shark tunnel plastic. There is the version I told as a juvenile-avoider-of-consequences that placed all the blame squarely on my Uncle Bob’s bald head.  Mainly since he removed my glasses before placing me on said jet ski.  But perhaps, I took my own glasses off and handed them to him?

Whatever the cause, the result: I drove the jet ski not more than 150ft and never made it out of the red rock cove.  Instead, I went up a beautiful Lake Powell rock formation in an arc formation of my own. 

Of course, I blamed it on the lack of glasses, but the real cause was probably my death grip on the throttle and tendency to close my eyes in stressful situations.

For years of extended family reunions, the jet ski accident story never went untold.  My older cousins, ever the heroes, all swam to my rescue, and they loved recounting the ordeal.   They narrated how I stayed on the jet ski as it skidded up and down the rock, and how I remained on it when it returned to the water.  They reported how I tried to hold on while it sank and how they had to tell me to let it go.  My dear Uncle Bob always took complete responsibility.

I don’t remember what happened to the jet ski.  

Me?  Not one scratch. 

Our gatherings maintained a moment when almost everyone was grateful that the accident hadn’t resulted in serious injury and/or death.  But this Thanksgiving, I’d like to thank my Uncle Bob, for taking the heat for me and never wavering.  It wasn’t his fault that his beloved, uncoordinated niece asked him to help her onto a jet ski or hold her glasses.  

Thanks, Uncle Bob, for everything – especially for encouraging my writing.  I’m not saying it’s your fault, but if you hadn’t stolen my glasses, we all would have missed out on the collective retelling of one fantastic story.