When I was a kid, and invincible, I was happy with a throwable PFD tucked between my butt and the mahogany thwart of a 13-foot Boston Whaler. I didn’t need no stinkin’ seat back, or arm rests, or fancy foam: The kapok seat cushion gave me all the support I needed, even with a 40-horse Evinrude leaping the Whaler across the summer-afternoon whitecaps. Sure, my spine interacted with the thwart like a jackhammer on concrete, and once in a while I came off the cushion and only a grip of death on the steering wheel and a little dumb luck kept me aboard—but at the end of the day I felt fine, ready to go again tomorrow.
Doing this today would put me in spinal traction after an hour. And if you’re past legal age, it might do you in too—if not today, then down the road. Rather than corkscrew my sacroiliac any more than I have already, from now on I’m going to invest in a proper helm chair, one that cradles me in plush upholstery,
