In 1986, we bought a boat. Not just any boat, but a hot rod. It was a 19 footer, with a 350 Chevy engine, with thru-hull exhausts. A great sounding boat that could hit 60 mph. We had the boat for 15 years, and like everything else in our relationship, we became a team. Nobody was faster launching or retrieving a boat. Coming in, we would dock, and I would go get the truck and trailer. I would back down the ramp, and climb on the trailer. Jennifer would start the boat, crack the throttle, and those open exhausts would roar, and the boat would literally jump on the trailer. She would always stop it within several inches of me, and in hundreds of retrievals, never once hit me, or knocked me off the trailer. I would connect the safety chain, she would shut it down, I'd give her a wink, and she would give me an almost imperceptible smile. We knew we were good.

About this time Jennifer came up with the classic definition of power-boating: "As far as I can determine, you go like hell to go nowhere, to drink a six-pack of beer, and go like hell to get back." I was so proud of her, she got it. You have to love a girl who can grasp the fundamentals.