John Bradshaw

Enc1101

Jessie Cohen

The House on Tipsico Trail

The second I stepped foot onto the 18 foot Boston Whaler docked outside 179 Tipsico

trail, the shiny little propeller at the back of the boat grabbed my attention as it moved the

mammoth vessel softly across the lake. The strange machine filled me with awe as it ripped

through the water at such speeds. As it was propelled through the chilled Michigan water on the

cozy lake south of Detroit, I could feel the misted air rushing past my face. My eyes became

filled with tears and the wind made it impossible to hear. Looking out from the boat I was staring

at the tiny two bedroom, one-bath cottage 50 of my extended family members called home every

Fourth of July week. To us it was more than just a home, it was a sanctuary, beneath the chaos

of feeding everyone for the week, everyone is relaxed, happy, and stress-free. No longer do the

pressures of making a quota for the quarter or working two jobs matter. Somehow everyone

always has a smile on their face no matter what their situation is, especially me. Unexpectedly I

fell in love with boats at an early age and this vacation was the one I dreamed about when history

class bored me.

The Keppel Family occupied the house on Tipsico Trail since the early fifties. The house

started out more modest than it is today, as a tiny hand built house overlooking the water-grass

area of an inlet. Since the fifties, my family has lived the house every year, even during the

seventies when construction on the new, more outlandish two-bedroom house began. My uncle

built the house by using his extensive knowledge of engineering, which is also my filled of

study. He was the project leader for the designs and construction of the Hummer H2 and loved to

show off his creation. There was a giant oak tree that a storm blew into the swamp down their

driveway and conquering the root system of this fallen monster was no easy task, but not hard

enough for his creation. He switched his beast into off road and the car became alive, ready for

anything. As he drove over the stump, sensors read and reacted to the changing terrain, making

the car drive over the stump as seamlessly as driving over a pebble on the road. Riding shotgun

as just a 10-year-old boy I was filled with amazement at how this machine could accomplish

such a thing. Sitting next to my uncle as he controlled the beast into doing his every command

showed me that man, combined with machine, could defeat such a wickedness nature created. As

I gazed over at my uncle smiling, admiring his creation, like a cowboy would admire his horse

after a days work, I appreciated the companionship forged from the collaboration required of

both beings in order for the task to be accomplished. Each individual knew its role and

performed it as routinely as always, the practiced hands of my uncle communicating to the brute

what exactly he wants done and the machine communicating back just as equally.

I was not only interested in this machine; my family had a 1997 Sea Doo GTX that

became the source of my happiness. Every morning I would wake up before anyone and out of

my tent I would gaze upon the green jet ski, sitting in the perfectly still water, hoping that the

first person up would drive me around. Unfortunately, most mornings would result in an

unsuccessful attempt to get an able body to take me. The seldom mornings I could find someone,

I would experience a new kind of pleasure. Sitting, holding onto the steering wheel gliding on

water like a mirror, reflecting the trees and sky, smiling nonstop my heart would race from

excitement. My body becoming alive as adrenaline was pumped into my veins, coursing through

my body I felt my arms and legs tingling with exhilaration. Yet as I sat in front of my father,

holding onto the controls of such a reckless machine I was composed, from the illusion of having

control of a situation I didn’t. I was composed because of where I was, on a calm lake encircled

by wilderness that only my family members were able to go. Also having my father right behind

me, guiding me through the water safely, gave me an extra sense of security. The simple

machine captured such opposite emotions creating a feeling that somehow I find myself craving,

like an addiction yet not quite as strong.

At the age of twelve I was able to take my Michigan boaters safety course and when I

passed I was allowed to drive the Sea Doo alone. I was now in control, and no longer had the

security of my father behind me. The adrenaline rush I developed wasn’t suppressed by my

father’s controlling presence. No longer was I being securely guided across the water but now I

was carving my own uncontrolled path with the feeling of invincibility overtaking my body.

Hearing the engine scream to seven thousand RPM’s immediately after I squeezed the throttle,

then being thrown back in my seat as water was sucked up, becoming the exhaust of a jet

impeller, made everything in perfect chaos. The jet ski raced from zero to sixty miles an hour in

less than 5 seconds and as I was racing down the lake faster than a cheetah I found my mind in

perfect solitude, a place where I have nothing but a smile on my face and untouched nature all

around me. Chaos surrounds me and still I feel at peace, with adrenaline flowing into my body

and a responsive machine beneath me I am at home. The morning drives turned into an all day

event; that machine and I were inseparable. The rest of the family wasn’t thrilled with my

extended time on the lake however I loved it. I rode the small green Sea Doo until it broke,

which happened a lot. We were, however, lucky enough to have an engineer and a Napa

salesman in the family. Even though the machine stopped often, they fixed the Sea Doo almost

as fast as it died.

When it was broke I felt as if my own kid had been hurt. I became worried about it’s

health and started to do anything I could to ensure the full recovery. Looking at the broken

machine, sorrow would overcome my body, like a wave of depression from not being able to ride

and enjoy it. The Sea Doo was always on the back of my mind and because my lack of

knowledge there was nothing significant I could do to help. That feeling ate at me, I just wanted

to contribute, I wanted to help fix what I had broken so many times and because I couldn’t help,

I felt even worse. Anytime I could help, even if it was as simple as handing my uncles the right

tools I was there doing it. Eventually I became familiar with the most basic workings and quick

fixes, which helped ease my mind of the feeling of helplessness and made me a contributor to the

cause. I started out handing tools to the same uncle who built the house, and as I would do so he

became very good at teaching me what he was doing and why he was doing it. He taught me how

to change spark plugs, flush an engine, tighten an exhaust manifold and much more. Learning

from my uncle, a person who loved and cared about me, how to fix something I love and care

about, became a connecting experience that I was able to share with family and began to develop

an interest beyond the pleasure of driving it on the lake. My interest was created by a machine I

love but developed further by my family that I love even more.

The whole reason we gathered at the lake was to be with family, my cousins and I were

always together. Our favorite thing to do together was to be slung at high speeds into waves

while laying down on a tube holding on with every fiber in our being. I was the smaller of my

two older cousins so accordingly I was put in the middle of the tube to reduce leg swings and

change handles swiftly. I had a very important job to do even though I didn’t always want to do

it. Tubing at the beginning of each week is fun but as the week went on it became more of a

chore to get on with my warrior cousins than a pleasure. We would come out, elbows and knee’s

worn raw, covered with “tube burn,” chafing our bodies to the point where a simple task became

a major irritation. We were forced to buy shooters sleeves in attempt to reduce the pain and

continue being whipped and rattled behind the “Sunbird,” a classic boat from the 80s.

This Great blue vessel became an instant icon the year it was introduced. It was the

perfect boat that balanced speed, maneuverability, and wake setting ability. My cousins and I

loved that thing and everything it was capable of, obviously it hadn’t superseded my love of the

Sea Doo but it was close. I always sat up front when I was on the boat, looking back seeing it

and trying to take it all in. Same as the sea doo, I was able to drive it one day when I was 15

years old. Driving this great blue machine around the lake gave me an incredible power rush. Not

only was I in control of myself but I controlled the other people who were on the boat as well.

They got to experience whatever I wanted them to. Eventually, after years of practice, I was

christened the driver for pulling tubers, which thrilled me beyond belief. I would get to drive a

boat as hard as I could in order to make the people fall, being as reckless as possible and geting

away with it. Eventually that boat was retired after a tragic inner engine accident, possibly

caused by years of reckless driving, and now is in a junkyard. The new home of the great blue

Sunbird is more tragic that I first realized, one of my greatest memories growing up is now gone

forever, never to be seen by my cousins or me again. A part of my child and young adulthood

died along with that boat. No longer will I be able to pull up the driveway and see the blue vessel

docked at the end, teasing me to drive it. Although where there is loss there is room for growth,

and next year a spot on the dock is open to be filled with a newer better boat.

To be replaced new technology needs to be engineered and that open spot in the dock has

made me think if I can change a design for the better. The adrenaline so many kids experience

from machines, just as I did, could be heightened. After coming to this place year after year the

machine became more complex and I developed a relationship with the wonders they can do.

They have helped me grow and accompanied me in my journey to adulthood. As I gained more

control in life I was also able to control machine more also. I’ve always been intrigued with them

and recently I’ve been able to work with them but now I’m able to study mechanical

engineering, making me able to comprehend the full ingenuity behind what makes these amazing

designs work so well.