Asher Roby is a keen local writer, and not so keen ‘tuber’. This is his first attempt at a humorous column and if he gets enough hits on this page, I’ll ask him to try abseiling next week 🙂
‘I chose this!’ were my last thoughts as the slack rope snapped taut.
My feet flew skyward as we gained speed. Moments prior I was adrift in an inflatable rubber tube being attacked by an ill-fitting life jacket.
I’d made the mistake of suggesting that it might be fun to try tubing.
Andrew happily readied the boat while the weight of my offer dawned on me. I merely pretended to look for a life jacket but alas, I found one!
Once in the tube, and after going through the signals for faster, slower, stop and SHARK, we took off.
Skipping over the water felt like light footed fairies dancing on my nether regions but as we gained speed it was as if they morphed into heavily shod, drunken dwarves.
A battle of wills ensued as we hit Mach 1 speeds. It was me against gravity and now a pure fantasy to think I’d be able to make a hand signal.
Only death would release my vice like grip. Scooting across the water with the gleeful abandon of a river nymph, time slowed and then stood still. Reality crashed through the veil like a seawater enema.
My baldy head bobbed up and down next to the upturned tube. The boat returned. Despite my best efforts to mount the slippery death balloon, I climbed, defeated, onto the back of the boat.
Andrew insisted I complete the mission.
Unwilling to appear weak, I flopped back onto the tube. We continued back to the beach, though at a more sedate pace. It was a pace I might have enjoyed had I not been exhausted from travelling at near warp speeds.
As I hobbled up the beach, I decided that tubing is definitely for the young, not just the young at heart.