| Sunny Side Up Aug 10, 2005 �2005, Kathleen Gibson Fix your rudder right A blue pedal boat sat on the dock of our rented lakeside cottage last month. I wanted to use it. The Preacher, remembering our last, rather difficult, attempt at pedal boating, didn't. So on one of our first afternoons I clapped for the dog, who got up obediently and padded down to the dock with me. The boat slid into the water smoothly enough, but everything went downhill from thereon. I pedaled my legs off almost. Cranked that steer stick every which way. But the boat kept turning right. I drifted about forty feet down the lakeshore, then a stiff wind swept me southward into a bank of tall reeds. The dog, whose sense of sense is far keener than her sense of hearing, began a worried pacing. In case you didn't already know this, there's not much room to pace in a pedal boat. Up the seat, down the seat. Up the other seat, down the other seat. Up on my shoulders, down off my shoulders. "Mindy, sit!" I yelled. Like the boat, she ignored my command. It dawned, finally, that if I wanted to exit the reeds and get back to dock I would have to undertake a series of backwards and forwards pedaling. In this convoluted way I made it back. "These things aren't easy to steer," I told Mindy on landing, by way of explanation for yelling at her. She hopped out, shook herself, and headed straight back into the cottage. Slightly offended, it seemed, that I'd disturbed her nap for such an unproductive pursuit. That evening (likely to stop my nagging) the Preacher agreed to try the boat. The owner's grandson helped us launch, then gave us expert steering advice: "Turn the handle the way you want to go." Confident a man's touch would bring the thing to heel, I told the Preacher, "You steer this time. It doesn't listen to me." Placing his large hand confidently on the rudder control, he set it to go straight. We both started pedaling. The little boat cheerfully turned a clockwise circle. Several, actually. "What the�.?" said the Preacher. The owner, working near the lakeshore, noticed our outstanding progress. Coming down to the dock he too explained how to operate the small craft. Three clockwise circles later, he gave up and leapt into another paddleboat to come to our rescue. By this time, we felt pretty silly. Before hauling us in, he pedaled around to look at the rudder - and started laughing. It was caught under the boat and couldn't turn. One quick flick of his wrist, and our vessel obediently turned wherever we directed it - off into the sunset - and mosquitoes. Life's like that, I've thought since. We think we're controlling our lives, then a few frustrating circles and trips into the reeds makes us realize we're not in control at all. We need a more experienced hand than ours to adjust our rudders, that's all. And when we realize that, God steps off the dock. Respond Home |
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