One crisp morning at a campground up in Michigan, I awoke by the aroma of steaming pancakes.  My dad cooked them just moments before, and I ate two fluffy buttermilk pancakes.  After I finished the pleasant breakfast, I walked outside and sat in front of the ash filled flaming fire pit while enjoying the fresh air.  Across from our camper sat a guy named Anthony, and my dad conversates with him several times a day.  My dad walked over to chat with Anthony and after a few minutes of communicating to him, he called to me, “Did you want to go on a jetski and attempt kneeboarding with Anthony?”

“Sure, why not,” seemed like an appropriate response.  Then we strolled down to the creaky wooden dock where Anthony’s lime green Skidoo was stored.  He had two aqua blue and black life jackets on the ground nearby, so we put them on. I seated myself on the watercraft.  Anthony handed me a smooth yellow and black kneeboard. He hopped on and started the jetski.  He cautiously backed out of the docks and rushed into the open water.
I felt the crisp air hit my face while the cool lake water sprayed my feet.  After we appeared far enough out into the lake like we were a speck in the distance, he halted and killed the jetski’s engine.  We both rose, and Anthony raised the seat and pulled out a neon orange and black rope with a gleaming silver carabiner attached at one end.  He hooked the carabiner onto the back of the jetski and tossed the kneeboard into the water.  I made my way off of the watercraft, fastened the handle onto the kneeboard, and positioned myself carefully on the board.  He turned the key and the vehicle hummed, then he accelerated.  The moment I was up on the kneeboard, my mind raced, and I determined what I would do next.  I glided myself side to side on the surface of the lake with the cool lake water that hit my face that felt like needles poking me.  The first time I fell off of the board that morning, the temperature of the lake woke me up, and I was ready for more.  Anthony turned the jet ski around, retrieved me, and asked, “Are you ready to go again?”

I replied, “Why not?” and swam back onto the board.  He took off for the second time, and I positioned myself on the board and grabbed the handle again.  I remained on the board to take quite a beating then a sudden turn finally threw me off of the board.  While in the air, my face became pale.  The moment I hit the water, my mind returned to reality.  My body skipped across the glistening water like a flat rock, and finally I stopped with salty water now in my stomach.  When he turned around to retrieve me, he told me, “You wiped out bad, but do you want to go once more”.

I responded breathlessly, “I’m good for now, maybe later.”  He helped me climb back onto the jet ski, untied the rope, and put it in the compartment under the seat.  I held onto the knee board on the trip back to the shore.  I held it tightly.

When we grew near the docks, he slowed the ski doo down and easily guided it onto the mini ramp in the water.  He hooked the ski doo onto the ramp, and then I handed him the kneeboard and climbed out afterwards.  We walked back to the campers, and when I took the life jacket off, I saw that my entire stomach was a red polished apple color from my tumble into the water.  I told him, “Thanks,” and he calmly replied, “No problem.”  Then I walked back into my camper to dry off.