When I was a shitty, awkward teenage boy interested only in girls and booze, my best friends were twin brothers named David and Jordan. They were also shitty, awkward teenage boys interested only in girls and booze, so we complimented each other well and got in trouble a LOT. We’d mostly just get yelled at by Constable Daleep and then get a ride home in the back of a cop car, so I suppose the adults chalked it up to us being shitty, awkward teenage boy interested only in girls and booze. Anyway, David and Jordan’s parents’ owned an island. Like, a whole island.
Their dad, Bill, a terrifying man with a volcanic temper when we showed up in the back of Daleep’s cop car, had a four-seater float plane. It was a late ’60s Beaver–a hot-rod back in the day, or so I gather. With wooden props and beautiful lines, it was a pretty little plane that Bill used to ferry visitors to his island. Bill was like a real-life Indiana Jones, and he scared the shit out of me. I used to love flying in that plane; looking down at the glimmering expanse of Main Lake, Bill sitting stoically next to me, lips pursed slightly at the mic while looping around his island, looking for smooth water to land on. David and Jordan would stand on the dock, waving up at us while Bill waggled the wings at them. It was the best. None of this has anything to do with the video above, except I always wanted to slalom ski behind him while he flew 20 feet above the lake. It never happened. The plane above is a 1951 Grumman Albatross, which is quite possibly the most bad ass open ocean flying boat ever built. What’s the difference between a flying boat and a float plane, you ask? If it’s got a hull and wings, it’s a flying boat.