The Fine Print: The King Has Returned

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

The King Has Returned

By : Dennis Stein

The big red boat known as My Way is back in the Thousand Islands, and ready for another season on the river. After a lengthy nap in her winter home in Ottawa, owner/driver Bill Tomlinson, and throttleman Ken Kehoe took the 50 foot turbine powered catamaran out last Saturday for its first test run of the season. It was a beautiful sunny day out in the Thousand Islands as the two 3000+ hp turbine engines roared to life, drinking down up to 4 gallons of kerosene per minute. The interior of the four man canopy closed, and we were off, despite the lack of special helmets, and the HANS devices worn by NASCAR drivers.
"They could save your life, if that's important..." he replied when asked about it.
So the decision was made not to run to hard. As we departed the dock, Ken throttled up the engines slightly, taking us out. As the boat came up on plane, the sound was deafening, and My Way started to move at what seemed like an unbelievable speed.
The boat continues to be a local favorite, and with good reason. Last August, after a run in the Thousand Islands Poker Run, along with a stop at Brockville during Ribfest, the boat was packed up to head to the Lake Of The Ozarks Shootout, an annual event. My Way went out on its first run the second day, and shattered the course record of 209 mph, running 224. It made them the event Top Guns, and is an unofficial world speed record for its class, I believe.
Now that summer has finally arrived back to the Thousand Islands, My Way will appear this coming weekend during the Alex Bay 'Thunder on the Bay' Poker run, and will likely return for the Thousand Islands Poker Run in August. When asked, Bill commented that he has no plans to return the boat to Lake Of The Ozarks this year, saying only: "Maybe if someone beats our speed, I might consider it next year..."
Both Tomlinson and Ken Kehoe are extremely busy men, with their own businesses, but running My Way is still a passion of theirs, thanks partly to all of the local support for the boat.
The King of the Thousand Islands has returned for another season, to rip the surface off the water. This 50 foot boat is the fourth incarnation of My Way over the years, and has somewhat of a mystique about it. People walk up beside it in the parking lot of Kehoe Marine, in awe at it mass. But nothing attracts a crowd like the firing of its twin t-55 turbine engines, or the huge rooster tail thrown up into the air as it rockets down the river.
What can I say about my ride aboard My Way? I have waited patiently for a chance to get aboard for a 160 mph test run... And as I write this, five days after the ride, I am still grinning...

No comments:

New Stuff!

Space Mail

The main console came to life, and LEDs began to light up everywhere in the darkened cockpit. It had been three months in cruise mode, and an audible beeping woke her from cryogenic sleep. Kara was drowsy, not with it yet. The computers came back online slowly, and the bay where she slept lit with a faint light. She was cold. Yawning and rubbing at her eyes, she sat up, sweeping blonde hair out of her face. The console was flashing with an indicator for a message waiting. Can’t even wait for me to be conscious, she thought sarcastically. There were several hours to spare before there was any need to make corrective maneuvers in her ship’s course in order to dock with the atoll, so she reached for her housecoat and told the galley computer she wanted her tea. It was ready in an instant, and she held the acrylic mug in both hands, feeling the warmth promised by her favorite morning drink. Was it morning? she mused briefly. It certainly didn’t feel like it. Reading the incoming messages, Kara shook her head. They knew she was the only one inbound to them, knew that she had their precious spares aboard. Still, the bullshit. She tapped out a quick reply, and headed to get dressed, the shower on board being little more than a tight closet. Kara spent a lot of time to make sure she was as well groomed as possible, an ingrained idea that she followed on a daily basis. It was better than nothing, and she always arrived smelling much better than her male counterparts. ‘Mailers’ were a group that were different than most others. Tough. Able to weather any storm. She hadn’t even glanced out at the stars today, she suddenly thought. Something she normally loved about these long runs between humanity when Kara first took this job. As the shower door closed and sealed, the small ship sped forward, having dropped from lightspeed, gliding effortlessly through the vacuum of space…

The atoll ‘Constellation’ was a massive vessel, well over two miles in length at this point in time, and carrying almost three thousand people. Massive solar sails stood erect off the cruiser’s surface, feeding power to all of it’s internal needs. The atoll was one of several, spread throughout the galaxy, and it’s interior had become home to humankind. The hum of the ion drives could be felt even out in the coldness of space. Pinpricks of light pierced the hull, windows out on the only solace that humans had now. The bridge of the ship stood up on a spire above the main body of the hull, like an eye on it’s surroundings. The commander sat here. It had been a long day for everyone, and he sat in the command chair, reviewing the day’s logs. Food shortage. Problems with waste disposal. Electrical relays that had begun to fail. He needed those replacements, or it would soon be a dark atoll, regardless of the output of the sails. Danek put his face in his hands, tossing the tablet aside. Too much today… All of the critical systems strung together throughout the ship were showing their age, and he wondered if it wasn’t simply the sheer size of the vessel that still made it habitable at times. Today alone the power had failed on part of the concourse level, the atmosphere generators dropped their output levels, and the waste recycler had stopped for several hours. If one of the main ion drives suffered a failure, the atoll would be adrift, helplessly tumbling through space. He stood up from the command chair, walking forward to check on the sensor banks, flat screens laid out on a desk-like console. Nothing but the service drones, flying around the hull to perform inspections. He needed those spare parts. The other atolls were just as desperate, their mining and manufacturing just as taxed as the constellation. He looked up briefly, everyone was at their post. The dozen or so people still on the bridge looked at their panels, working diligently.

New Stuff!

The White Room

He had not slept again. Days and nights were the same here, after all. No changes in the amount of light, and everything was devoid of colour. For his own safety, and that of others. His room was very carefully designed, round with no edges, even the locked doorway was seamless, the lighting a harsh bright white glowing from behind translucent panels in the ceiling. Color was not a good thing for him. The table he sat at was of course entirely white. The same for his chair. A bed at the other side of the room was little more than a futon, but again, white. No color anywhere. His hair had been shaved, a precaution against him pulling any of it out and seeing it's brown strands, and he was clothed in white, a simple t-shirt and pajama pants, white pull-on sneakers and gloves. Without any mirror in this cell, he could not even look upon the color of his own eyes. He sat at the table quietly, waiting. A voice over some hidden loudspeaker had told him to do so a short while before.