It seems so terrible to reduce an otherwise enjoyable and wonderful childhood experiance to a single, decidedly unromantic noise, but there it is.
A day spent with my parents, my little brother and my uncle (really just my dad's best friend) on a speed boat up in Michigan. The sun shinning down on us as we threw the frisbee, swam in the water and enjoyed a picnic together all combine to form, if I may borrow a cliche, the recipe for a perfect day.
But for so much of the rest of our perfect day, it seemed like all I could hear was the incessant rumbling of the boat motor roaring in my ear over the breeze in my face. My parents and my uncle were talking of course; laughing the whole time, but this too seemed drowned out by that unflinchingly cruel boat motor.
So many other details about that day seemed blurred to me, but I can still recall the horrible roar of the motor in my ear. I've since been around a lot more boat engines, including my dad's. The sound no longer even registers to me. I even enjoy listening to the sound of a car engine revving up on the road. But for a young boy who just wanted to swim in the beach and spend the day with his Uncle Ray, the sound of a boat motor could muffle the sound of a world.
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