Thank you all for suggesting I find an editor. I have connected with RF-Fast and I am certain you will be pleased with the results.
The Seabreacher Effect. Ch01.
[A few years ago, I came across an amazingly cool watercraft called a Seabreacher. It's a two person craft that looks like a shark and can travel at up to 50 miles an hour on the surface. Which would be cool, but its pièce de résistance was it could dive up to 5 feet underwater and when it surfaced, it could launch itself into the air. Not only did I think that would be amazing, but I saw potential for an amazing business. Who wouldn't love the chance for a quick trip in one of them?
The price was around £60,000, which was steep, but I figured I could easily earn that back in a year. No, the reason I wasn't on the phone to order one right away was the driver was in the front seat, restricting the passenger's views. I figured if I wanted someone to pay a premium price for a ride, they'd not want to stare at the back of my head. Plus, I needed somewhere to use it. Most reservoirs or large enough lakes would have speed limits to reduce erosion of the shore, and the sea would be too unpredictable to get a regular income.
So at that point I gave up! This is a story about what might have happened if I worked around those problems.]
I know almost all of my friends thought I was mad quitting a very well-paid job to become a glorified carnie at 32. Handing over most of my savings to buy a fancy toy and live out of a caravan for 5 months of the year. In some regards, they were right. Twelve hours a day for seven days a week was going to be exhausting. However, it would give me most of the year to do whatever I wanted. No more office 9 to 5 and no tough bosses to push me around.
It would be fair to admit I wasn't popular with the other businesses on the lake, when I applied for permission to run my business. Nor was the local council keen to let me run my vessel at its top speed. However, the central part of the lake had been used for water speed records in the past, and the laws hadn't been changed. If I agreed to limit my speed-runs to a few hundred yards and put warning buoys in the water, plus, I would pay for extra signage for the casual sailor who hired small boats. They decided it wasn't worth stopping me.
Of course, I was quick to point out that I'd be the only person offering the service in the country which would bring in extra visitors to the area.
It took a few months before I won over some locals. Starting with the ferry captains. There were 8 locations around the lake where visitors could hop on and off the ferries and walk along the lakeside paths. As the entire thing was close to ten miles, only the hardiest walked the entire thing. So I took to shadowing the ferries, coming close enough for the visitors to see me appearing and disappearing under the surface. But not close enough to endanger either vessel.
Naturally, the ferries would position themselves near the middle of the lake when I'd do a speed run, to show how the vessel could leap from the water. This had more people piling onto the ferry to watch, even if they were too cheap or scared to try it themselves.
I also became friendly with Kirsty, who ran her uncle's ice-cream van, which was parked close to the little pontoon where I ran my business. She was 19 and elfin-like, very petite, with a bubbly personality. Very chatty with her customers and very hard working when the summer heat had constant queues for her frozen wares.
As my 'ride' was at a premium price, I had many days when I had more gawkers than customers. Lots of people staring and whispering I wasn't worth it. However, a fair number came sheepishly back after seeing my 'show' from the ferry. One advantage I had was because we'd submerge underwater for part of the trip. I had no issue operating in the rain. Provided I had clear visibility of the other lake craft.
Not that it helped in the hours I'd spend sitting on my camping chair waiting for my next customer. That was where Kirsty and I became friends. When she wasn't busy, she had noticed me sitting in the rain for a few hours. She'd call me over and hand me a hot mug of coffee or even a cup-a-soup. I'd stand under the extended awning and we'd chat for a few minutes before I'd hand back her mug and offer to pay. She always turned me down.
I'd learned she lived down south, but came here for the last couple of summers to work and save money for university, which she'd be starting at the end of September. She hated living with her uncle as he was rather old-fashioned and disapproved of her going out drinking or having any sort of fun.
By the middle of September, after a spell of poor weather, we were both not getting a lot of business. Hikers might be wrapped-up for the rain, but few people wanted to eat ice cream in the rain. And I seemed to spend as long cleaning out mud and water from the 'shark' as I did driving it.
One morning after I'd lowered the vessel into the water off its trailer. I nipped off for a pee and got back to see Kirsty standing on my pontoon and looking at the 'shark'.
"Want a go?" I asked.
"Of course, a few of my friends have done it and they said it was ace! It's just too expensive for my pockets."
"I could give you a special friend's discount." I offered.
"And how 'special' a friend am I?" she asked, giving a mischievous grin and fluttering her eyelashes at me.
I blinked and did a double take. She was flirting with me. To be honest, I'd be lying if I said I'd not thought about her sexually. However, with the age gap between us at over 60% of her age, I knew it was an idle fantasy. Then I realised with her excellent customer service, she was just teasing me like she did with so many of her other customers.
She let me off the hook by giving me a playful punch on the arm. "So how much?"
"I'll have to calculate just how much coffee and soup you've given me." I said to buy time.
"And don't forget my pretty smile! Crap! Customers. Gotta go." She rushed back to her van. I was transfixed as I watched her tiny bum as she ran off. Again, I wondered again what it looked like in person.
Shaking my head, I checked out the 'shark' for my first customers of the day. At this stage it was mostly online bookings instead of footfall opportunists. I supposed I'd need to finish the season in the next week or two.
That night, I headed out to a bar for a meal instead of getting a pizza delivered to my caravan in a farmer's field. It was far better than struggling to cook in the limited kitchen. The place was busy and seemed to be full of locals rather than visitors. My sausage and chips had just arrived, and I had a full pint of the best bitter next to me, when I saw something in the corner of my eye.
It was Kirsty, sitting next to an older couple and a gangly young man. He must have been over 6 feet tall, but his acne and baby fat suggested he was young. She was waving at me and slipped out from her table and made herself over.
"Hey Simon. I've not seen you here before."
"First time. I couldn't face cooking for myself."
"It's pretty good." She replied, stealing a chip.
"I hope so."
"Thought about what my 'ride' will cost me?" As she said this, she put her hand on my shoulder and leaned in, as if she was trying to show off her cleavage.
Although she was rather flat chested, her lack of bra and the small hard nubbins of her nipples more than made up for that. She caught me looking and gave a knowing grin.
"You're evil Kirsty. We'll sort something out in the morning, OK?"
"Really? Fantastic."
