Chapter 42

The next morning, I arrived at the convention center before the doors opened to the attendees. Eileen, Eva, and Ned were sleeping in, recovering from last night’s event.

Marine product companies were setting up booths. The boats were displayed in neat rows lined up by bow tips evenly pointedly toward the aisles. In some spots, the boats were aligned so close side by side that you could leap from one boat to the next and not touch the floor. The big, open exhibition hall was filled with the new boat aroma mix of fiberglass resin, vinyl, varnish, wax and brass polish. I saw outboard companies like Mercury, Yamaha, Honda, and Suzuki. Electronic companies were flashing their wares of fish finders, navigation systems, and trolling motors—Humminbird, Raytheon, Lowrance, Garmin, Motor Guide, and Minn Kota.

Boat manufacturers filled most of the space with everything from kayaks to small, yacht-size behemoths. It was a mix of boat styles and types familiar to boat aficionados—sailboats, bass boats, flats boats, bay boats, ski boats, pontoon boats, and more. There was everything from human-powered, paddle-driven to outboard-powered, to stern- drive-powered boats on display.

Since Florida is a peninsula in the United States at near sea level, it is loaded with lakes and rivers in the interior surrounded by the Gulf of Mexico on the west and the Atlantic Ocean on the east. It’s a boater’s paradise of freshwater and saltwater. It is probably the best place in the U.S. to have a marine expo for the pleasure boating industry.

SeaArk was there, and I stopped at their booth to see their latest aluminum models. One of the key salespeople saw my event badge and noticed Rocket City Tech’s logo.

“Hey, you’re the company here with one of our older boats, aren’t you?” asked Ken from SeaArk.

“Yes, that’s right,” I said. “It’s my boat. I’m Dalton Russell.”

“We are excited to hear what Rocket City is unveiling this afternoon. I saw your boat, and it sure looks great. What is it—about five years old?”

I chuckled and said, “It’s over twenty years old.”

“You’re kidding. Twenty years?” responded Ken in surprise. “You have maintained it well.”

“Thank you.” My chest thrust forward with pride as I felt our hard work was paying off. “You will hear more about it today. SeaArk builds a hull that will last a few lifetimes. It’s already on its second lifetime within my family,” I announced as I kept walking down the aisle to the next booth.

“Good luck this afternoon.”

Ranger Boats displayed a boat from the 1974 Bassmaster Classic. It was in pristine condition with its beautiful, gold-painted Johnson outboard hanging on the transom.

When I saw the Flamingo Boats booth, I felt compelled to stop. At their booth, they had a pool of water about one foot deep and twenty feet long. Floating in the pool was their prototype, “Crevalle,” from the late nineties—about the same year that John bought his boat brand new from a SeaArk dealer. Placed around the boat were yardsticks showing how shallow the boat floated in the water. The outboard on it was only ten years younger than the outboard on Johnny Bruce.

I stood next to the boat I had seen in many episodes of the famous fishing show, Everglades Adventures. This Saturday morning show captured what John and I felt when we were fishing. The stunning videography drew us in even deeper. Most of the shows were from saltwater fishing adventures, but it was the feel of the show that kept us watching season after season.

I gasped when I saw the one and only Topher Stevens standing in front of me. He was the host of Everglades Adventures and the founder of Flamingo Boats.

I wanted to speak to Topher and meet him face to face. Everyone seemed to have the same idea, and people surrounded him. I moved on, thinking, Maybe I’ll catch him later when he isn’t the center of attention. Besides, something else had snagged my attention. Gleaming in the bright lights of the convention center, tucked away in the back of center stage, sat Johnny Bruce.

Herb dusted Johnny Bruce. Clyde shined the outboard with a coat of WD-40.

“Hey, Dalton, welcome to the show.” Herb waved his white dusting cloth in the air to greet me. Clyde looked up beaming with pride.

I stopped walking the floor, absorbed this scene, placed my hands on my hips, took a deep breath, and exhaled. “This is the most beautiful sight of the entire show. All of those bright, shiny boats look great, but this one has history, and he’s mine. There are only two other boats here that have that history, like Johnny Bruce. He looks great!”

“We are ready to go,” said Clyde. “You like our sign?”

In front of the Rocket City Tech booth was a four-by-eight sign that said, “Why is this 1997 SeaArk here, amid the latest and greatest of the marine industry? Join us here at 1:30 today to find out.”

“There you go.” I grinned. “I love it!”

At the bow of Johnny Bruce was a 1956 Evinrude, 7.5-horsepower outboard mounted in a clear running tank with a fuel line connected to a red pressurized fuel tank. It was just like the one Daddy had. Next to the stern of Johnny Bruce was a 1975 Johnson fifteen-horsepower outboard in a clear running tank. Even Johnny Bruce’s outboard had its lower unit in a tank of water. All three were ready to run.

In a flash of pride, I envisioned the brain film of Daddy guiding our boat across Town Creek, Jake Snellgrove tuning a Johnson outboard at his dock, Eileen grinning at me as she wiped sweat from her brow to repair my rented outboard, John sticking his tongue out at me as I snapped a photo of him running his boat, and the laughing faces of Eva and Ned as they peered at loons in Johnny Bruce.

For Johnny Bruce, Rocket City Tech, and the National Marine Industry Expo, we were ready to open the doors.