I was once given the privilege of “helping” to pilot a huge, beautiful boat. It was a “Pacemaker ‘53”. Bright blue and white, fifty-three-foot-long yacht, as I remember, out of Ocean City, Maryland. I was surrounded by a very nervous group of adults. It was owned by some friends of an aunt and uncle who were also on board. They were nervous because they feared that I, at age of 8, might do something foolish like execute a Watusi turn, throwing guests in the ocean and injuring others in the process. I promised to be good and we all survived.
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