On Your Mark
The canary yellow helmet wasn’t mine. Neither was the race-flag-checkered runabout with the Yamato 24.2 cubic-inch outboard hanging off the transom. It was all borrowed, on the spot. As was the cut suit I was wearing to protect from bodily harm, should said runabout flip or crash or eject me at full speed, my limp body tumbling across the water like, I tell myself. .
