The mighty Niagara River flowed through my hometown on its way to Niagara Falls. As kids, we played on and in the river far enough from the falls, but we were always careful to stay diligent, as many people lost their lives as the rapids swept them up and over the mighty waterfall.
I was about ten years old when I saw my first boat race. It was a weekend event when speedboats nationwide came to the Niagara River to compete. These powerful boats with over one hundred fifty mph speeds made my heart race and my imagination right alongside it. I was determined to build my speed boat, and with the help of a couple of buddies, we did just that in my garage. Using discarded wood from the city dump and an outboard motor that I found in my grandpa's garage, who said he doubted it would run, but to go ahead and try, we worked on that motor for days until one Saturday, my dad offered to help. He worked on it, telling us he built a speedboat when he was about our age, but back then, motors weren't as powerful, and he barely got it over ten mph.
We finally finished the boat using old and new parts, put it on another garage-made trailer, and headed for the river. Dad came with us in case we needed help, and I'll admit I was glad he came along.
We intended to launch a good mile above the rapids in case the motor died, giving me time to paddle back to shore or jump out and swim. Once in the river, I started the motor, which roared to life and was ready to go. I started off slow to be sure we had no leaks, then gradually throttled down, and the small craft leaped forward with a roar of the motor, making me sure I was going to pee myself.
I was already half a mile from the falls when the motor sputtered and quit running. I frantically tried starting it but with no success. All I could imagine was going over the falls. About then, I heard my dad calling me from shore, holding a rope he tossed to me, which I missed several times, still getting closer and closer to the rapids and certain death. It hit its mark on the fourth throw, and I grabbed hold until my hands were raw.
Dad pulled me to shore, where I caught my breath and smiled. I told him and my buddies that it really went fast and that I couldn't wait to try it again.
When Mom found out, there were no more rides. She didn't speak to Dad for a week, and every time she walked past me, she rubbed my hair, claiming she thought she'd never see me again. But you can't keep a man determined to speed across the water stuck on land. At Seventeen years of age, I built another boat. But this time, I built it in the wood shop at school with help from my shop teacher and my mechanic's teacher. It took all winter to complete just in time to race my first race as soon as the ice broke free and spilled over the falls.
What a day it was when six other boats and mine competed for the trophy and five hundred dollars for first place. The horn sounded as dozens of people watched the boats shoot forward, and the race was on. Around the course, we raced neck and neck with four boats stalling out of the race, leaving me and two other racers to see whose boat was the best.
One more lap around the course, and it was down to me and one more boat. I gave my motor one last burst of speed, and the boat sped across the finish line as the crowd cheered, with my dad's voice being the loudest. That first race led to many others, as my need for speed stayed with me well into adulthood. Eventually, I got a sponsor and drove some of the fastest boats ever built. I won most of the races I competed in and finally retired early to be with my wife and kids.
That mighty Niagara River didn't claim me, but I wasn't going to chance it ever again. Well, almost never. My son and I built his first speed boat in my dad's garage, who sat with us, offering tips on how to avoid the mighty Niagara.
Mike 2025
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