#craigcat

"Capital City Yacht Club," the blue sign in the first picture reads. Its shoddiness makes me feel as though I might not be out of place at all yacht clubs.

On Sunday of Memorial Day weekend, we took Dad's newest toy to the Delaware River, near Trenton. When he first suggested this spot, he wanted to take Mom. "Why don't we all go, and we can take turns?" she asked. The CraigCat was only a two-seater.

"It's Trenton. I don't think it'd be safe to leave anybody on shore."

"But you want me to go?! To an unsafe area? Why don't we go to the bay?"

"We need to test it out somewhere calmer before putting it in the ocean. I don't know if it'd even hold up in the bay." Way to reassure your wife, dude.

I guess he managed to talk her into it eventually; they took the little catamaran on its inaugural journey a couple weeks ago. On Sunday, after Hayley and Dad had gone for a little cruise, my sister and I swapped places. She went home, and I climbed in the passenger seat of the boat.

"You need to take that course so you know what the buoys mean," Dad said as we set off down the river. I remained the only one in my family without a boating license, because (a) I'd had work the day the rest of them took the test and (b) I procrastinate.

The little boat was speedy and nimble, quite a fun ride. I was surprised how smoothly it glided, although I knew that was due to the independently-moving pontoons. I'd brought my camera and kept it sealed in a gallon-size ziploc for most of the ride. Good thing, too. The water wasn't choppy, and even the wake from other boats was navigable; Dad remarked that he'd discovered with Hayley that taking the waves head on had gotten them soaked. When we were parallel to the approaching swells, the boat slid over them with ease. Just once we hit one at speed and at an angle causing a great splash to course over us, and I gasped as cold water dripped down my sunglasses. "If I did that with Mom, she would have a 'for sale' sign on this as soon as we reached the dock," Dad said.

Several times he mentioned that we didn't have much gas, but wanted to get to the "Trenton Makes, The World Takes" bridge.

"There were a lot of pictures of that bridge at Art All Night last year," I said as we edged closer.

"Not surprising. It's world-famous." That, and Art All Night took place in Trenton. "Were any of them taken from the water?"

Not that I recalled. I hardly wanted to submit something so unoriginal to AAN, though.

There was another bridge between it and us, and rapids too. Closer and closer we steered, but we could see no letters on the second bridge. "I could have sworn that was the one," my dad said.

"Maybe the words are on the other side?" I suggested.

We were about to turn back (the rapids prohibited us from getting the boat past the first bridge) when we spotted it. Barely visible against the bridge's metal arms were the white letters. At night they're lit up red. I snapped a few pictures, knowing that at this distance the words were barely distinguishable. The boat was also unsteady on the brink of the rapids; my dad was fighting to keep it on one place while I shot.

On a tangent note, I'd been wanting to create something for Art All Night, but at this point I don't see that happening. I've been busy, I've been tired, and I've been uninspired. I guess this is what growing up feels like.