When I came out of the boathouse this morning with Lochlan, the brothers D and PJ were coming up the path, wetsuits half down, grins crossing their faces like highways through fields.
Then they saw me and told me how PJ screamed like a woman on his first waverunner experience. He hit the throttle and just keened, apparently. They all got the hang of it quickly and loved it. They can be so much more relaxed than they were on the bikes.
Which makes it even more funny because PJ is the most hardcore of the bikers. His bike is still in the garage under a cover. He takes it out every chance he gets. He's big and strong and his beard has a mind of its own and if he was screaming like a little girl on a watercraft then I want to see it, dammit.
Then they point out how early we must have been up to eat and be over at Caleb's before they got organized. And boy, did they get up early for a Saturday. They wanted to be done their introductory runs before Joel needs help finishing his move.
Yeah, how about that? I ask. Lochlan looks away.
We didn't go home last night after being invited back for a nightcap, that's why.
