“Catch the Motor!" A Day at the Lake with Daddy

I didn’t do a lot of things with my daddy growing up, but when I did, it was a big deal. His presence could fill a room, and not just because he stood 6’5" with hands like dinner plates. Being with Daddy was exciting… until it wasn’t. One moment he’d have you laughing so hard your sides ached, and the next, you were flinching from the thunder of his voice without knowing what you did wrong.

I remember once, on a beach trip with his new family, I was picking seashells, little treasures the tide had left behind like a breadcrumb trail. I was so lost in their beauty that I didn’t even realize I had wandered too far. Next thing I knew, I was yanked clean off the sand, soaking wet in my swimsuit, and getting a spanking all the way back to the car. That man didn’t need a paddle, his hands were paddles. I didn’t know what I did wrong until later, when I realized I’d crossed some invisible line he’d warned me about. Daddy’s anger could come out of nowhere, and his boundaries felt like tripwires. It was love... laced with fear.

But then, there were days like the one on the lake.

He woke me up early that morning and told me to go dig for bait. Worms and crawdads. I grabbed a piece of bacon and some string, like I was going fishing during the Great Depression, and headed to the yard. Crawdads would clamp onto that greasy strip like it owed them money, and I’d yank them up before they could let go. Worms were trickier, but I had a secret: I always dug near the base of the tree where the dirt stayed damp and soft.

When I had enough, Daddy loaded up the old Johnson & Johnson motorboat and we headed for the lake. Just watching him back the trailer into the water made me nervous. I never knew if I should roll the rope in or let it out, and both answers were wrong depending on his mood. “ROLL IT OUT!” he’d yell. “NO, ROLL IT BACK IN!” I just danced back and forth like a nervous rodeo clown.

Once we got the boat launched, he barked at me to hop in and hold it steady while he parked the truck. I was first mate, which meant baiting hooks, untangling lines, and trying not to wince every time I stabbed a worm straight through its wiggling little body. I hated it, but I’d never let Daddy see that. If I gagged, it was in silence.

Fishing was slow that day. The sun was brutal, and the fish were smart enough to stay hidden. We ate bologna sandwiches, potted meat, Vienna sausages, and saltine crackers. I don’t know who invented potted meat, but they should be tried in food court. Still, I sipped on my Coca-Cola, the wind tangled my long hair into a rat’s nest, and I felt free. When Daddy cranked up the motor and flew across the lake, I laughed into the wind, completely in love with the moment.

Then it happened.

We were floating mid-lake when I heard him shout, “CATCH THE MOTOR!”

I turned just in time to see the Johnson & Johnson motor tilting backward off its mount. The board holding it had cracked clean through. My brain froze. What do you mean “catch” the motor!? But instincts took over, I leapt like a linebacker, wrapping my arms around that greasy, humming hunk of metal like it was a life preserver. It was hot, heavy, and sinking fast. I gritted my teeth and gave it all I had... but gravity had other plans.

KERPLUNK.

The motor disappeared into the lake, swallowed whole like it was never ours to begin with.

I stayed frozen, still half-leaning over the side of the boat, arms empty, soaked to the bone, my heart pounding louder than the engine had been moments before.

I didn’t move.
I didn’t breathe.

All you could hear was the lapping of the water against the now still boat… and some random dog barking on shore somewhere.

Because I knew what came next.

I had seen Daddy’s brown eyes turn black before, and I’d felt the kind of silence that didn’t need volume to strike fear straight through me. I braced myself, willing my hands not to shake, afraid to turn around and see what kind of storm I’d just unleashed.

But when I finally looked...

He was laughing.

At first, no sound came out, just that open-mouthed, head-thrown-back kind of laugh that takes over your whole body. And then the sound followed: loud, wheezy, rolling laughter that knocked him sideways onto the bench. His shoulders shook, his face turned red, and it didn’t stop.

Through gasps, he finally managed to point at me and say, “Your legs were straight up in the air like a tipped cow, thank the Lord you had panties on or you’d’ve mooned me proper!”

That set him off all over again.

And just like that, the fear cracked, and joy rushed in.

I laughed too. Out of relief, out of shock, out of the pure, unexpected grace of that moment.

After what felt like five solid minutes of hysteria, Daddy wiped his eyes and with great seriousness said, “Well, I guess you better dive in and get my motor.”

I blinked.
My smile slipped off my face like a soda can sliding off a hot dashboard.
He grinned.
And the laughter started all over again.

For once, I wasn’t walking on eggshells or waiting for the switch to flip.
For once, I wasn’t scared of messing up.

I was just a girl on a boat, making my daddy laugh, and holding tight to a memory I’d keep in my heart forever. Not of the one that got away, but the motor that did…