Every year around my birthday I get a notion that I should be doing something adventurous, and my mind always wanders to my little brother Zach. Zach’s difficult to describe, but I think my dad says it best. “Zach’s a wonderment,” he says with a touch of awe in his voice as he shakes his head. Dad, I agree.
I was eight when Zach was born, so I always had enough age on him for him to do just about everything I said. As a boy, he was ridiculously cute and sweet, with big brown eyes hidden behind Harry Potter glasses. He couldn’t pronounce his K’s so he called me Telly for years. It wasn’t long before he won me over completely and became my constant shadow.
Not that he wasn’t lucky to have me. I remember once when he was around nine years old playing in the back yard with a couple of his friends, I heard him yelling. I looked out the kitchen window and two Dobermans were sprinting toward them, barking and snarling. I rushed outside barefoot, wielding a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch (it was lunch time) with my trusty Golden Retriever, Joseph on my heels. I screamed at the dogs, distracting them just long enough for Zach and pals to climb up into their nearby tree house.
Yes, I saved the day, and quickly high-tailed it back in the house, tripping and spraining my ankle in the process. I took him to the movies, rollerblading, horseback riding, and on ghost hunts. I even let him drive my car, which he miraculously got stuck on rock. Somehow he’d managed to get the door jammed against the rock, so I had to climb through the driver’s side window (with true Dukes of Hazzard finesse), and maneuver us free, saving the day again. The list goes on and on, but in essence, my little brother never grew out of his sense of adventure.
It was about this time two years ago that we were at Douthat Lake in Covington, Virginia at my niece Emily’s birthday party. Emily had just turned nine and she, her two sisters, and about a half dozen of their friends were swimming at the sandy beach area. Our parents, my older brother Jason and his wife Rhonda were relaxing under nearby shade trees, kicked back in camp chairs, sipping their cool drinks like civilized folks.
Zach and I, neither one of us inclined to act our age or having the forethought to bring chairs, sit cross-legged on the ground. I look at him, and he has a restless look about him, his eyes scanning the area, taking in the activities.
“I wish I’d brought some cash,” I said, “we would’ve rented a canoe and paddled on the lake.”
Zach, jumps to his feet. “Come on Keli,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads toward Dad, palm outstretched. And just like that, we’re off, with a crisp 20 dollar bill clutched in his hand.
We head over to the rental store, and what a selection.; canoes, kayaks, fishing boats, paddleboats, and something I’ve never seen before in my life, like a bicycle balanced on two giant floating bananas. “What’s that?” I ask Zach, nodding toward the mystery machines.
“Those are hydro bikes.” He’s quick to answer, and looks at the attendant. “We’ll take two of those.”
My eyes widen. “Really?” I sputter. “Let’s just get a canoe.”
“Nope.” Zach grins. The attendant hands over our bright orange life jackets and I accept my fate. I laugh as Zach lumbers his 6’2″ frame onto the contraption. He looks ridiculous, like a giant bottle, bobbing in the water, complete with a bright orange cork. He looks like a moron and I snicker. Then reality sets in. I’m not an itty bitty thing by any means at 5’10” weighing in at well…. never mind. Luckily, I don’t take myself too seriously, and with a resigned sigh, I accept my fate and mount my hydro bike.
It’s surprisingly sturdy; an engineering marvel. We peddle off into the blue unknown, and the day is perfect. The sun glints off the water, and the sound of laughing children tickles our ears. There’s a slight breeze, soothing in the warmth of the day, and pure joy seeps in. The years slip away and we’re laughing and giggling without a care in the world. Zach and I are great explorers skimming across the water, taking in the dam, the swimmers, the fishermen, and as we peddle past the beach area, our family smiles and waves, my older brother Jason rolling his eyes in true older-brother style.
We peddle around the curve in the lake, out of sight of the beach, and navigate to the middle of a secluded cove, with probably 30 yards of water on each side of us. Our goal is the far shore, about 100 yards straight ahead. Frantically pumping our mighty hydro bikes, we glide through the now murky water, noticing the plant life peeking through the surface, like a hidden jungle and all its secrets, obscured beneath the mirrored surface. The air turns cooler, and the sunlight recedes as the trees hugging the shores enforce their shade. The reflection of overhanging foliage blurs the contrast of the underlying vegetation, and peddling with all of our strength, our destination refuses to budge, laying stagnate in our vision, not getting any closer.
Zach stands up on his bike, pedaling forcefully as though attempting to top a hill, but to no avail. He dismounts and lays face first on one of the bike’s floaters and discovers our dilemma. The underwater vegetation has tangled up in the paddle wheel, rendering it useless. With nimble fingers, he deftly untangles his wheel, now ready to conquer the remainder of the lake.
I’m frozen. I look down in the unknown depths, imagining falling in. I look over at my brother, and command. “Zach, untangle my bike.”
He looks at me in disbelief, his voice going shrill, “I can’t get back there. You’ll have to do it.”.
“Zach!” I bark again. “Just get over here, and untangle my bike.”
He mutters under his breath. Still lying on his stomach, he stretches his long arms and eventually pulls me over to him until our rides are butted against each other. He struggles to reach my paddle wheel, and the realization sets in that clumsiness and all, I’m going to have to do this for myself. As I rise to dismount, putting my weight on the right side of my bike, Zach shifts his weight onto the same side at exactly the same time. “Don’t…” I scream, but it’s too late. I feel myself and my hydro bike tipping.
I hold my breath, bracing myself for the inevitable. As I hit the water, I expect to be pulled underneath, but the life jacket keeps me afloat. There’s no escaping the bike as it falls toward my head. A glancing blow on my temple from the floater makes me gasp, but I’ve been forced beneath the water, and instead of air, my lungs take in water. I float to the surface, coughing and sputtering, my chest on fire. Zach, who was knocked in beside me swims over bellowing, “Keli, are you okay?”
I’m addled, but nod my head, struggling to catch my breath. It takes a few minutes, but I finally recover, and Zach’s laughter registers in my ears. I glance over and see that he has remounted his bike. I look around helplessly. I feel stranded; my capsized bike is now only two giant floating contraptions, bobbing on the surface of the lake.
With the assertion of a great general dressed in brilliant orange, Zach maneuvers his way over to me, his hydro bike pedals whizzing with assertion. “Hang on, Keli,” he orders. I hang on limply to my felled mount as Zach uses his bike to push me to the shore. When my feet finally feel ground I drag myself out of the water and flop down on the shore.
I look at Zach who is getting off his hydro bike. “I guess you’ll have to go get someone to help us,” I say in disgust, dreading the embarrassment and the relentless teasing I’ll face at the hands of my older brother.
Zach shakes his head. “No, I got this.”
I watch in amazement as my little brother squats in the water, grabbing hold of my lifeless steed. Like Poseidon, God of the Sea, he rises, my bike resurrecting in his hands. A glorious shower of water streams from my revitalized mount as Zach hefts it upright. He turns to me and grins in triumph. “There ya go.”
I climb on my on hydro bike in a daze, the image of my little brother forever changed from helpless to heroic. Since then I’ve researched hydro bikes, and almost every site I find says the same thing; they’re virtually impossible to capsize. They obviously don’t know my brother. Zach, you are truly a wonderment.