Lost in the River of Grass Read Online Free PDF

doesn’t matter. I can’t hear my own voice over the roar of the engine, so I’m pretty sure Andy didn’t hear me. I tilt my head back and grin up at him.
    I thought it would feel like riding in a convertible, but it doesn’t. Not anything like that at all. The sensation is of moving through the landscape at a high speed while perched on top of a pole. We are on a trail of open water and going so fast it feels like we’re skimming above the surface on a pocket of air, until he turns us into the saw grass and I feel the tug of it beneath the boat. My arms and legs sting, which makes me think I’m getting pelted with insects, but when I look there are tiny cuts and flecks of blood. That’s why Andy told me to wear long sleeves. The airboat is like a lawn mower, and the bits of saw grass fly up and cut my arms and legs. We’re going so fast I’m only able to undo the sleeves of Dad’s shirt and slip my arms inside. It makes me feels hog-tied, but warmer and more protected.
    The floor of the airboat is accumulating critters. Little green tree frogs—a half dozen at least—hop about. They must be confused and scared; one minute they’re clinging to a cattail blade, and the next they’re whizzing along as if captured by aliens. Every tall stand we plowed through adds to the collection: a few more frogs and a dozen more spiders. The tiny spiders are everywhere, but unlike the disoriented frogs, they immediately set about building new webs. I want to brush away the ones that have landed on me, but it would mean letting go of the sides of my seat. Instead I try not to think about them and soon begin to admire their focus. The Pan Am bag, a long pole, the gas can, and the cooler are all being webbed to the deck with hopeful little strands of silk.
    Off to our left is a strip of dry land with a few low shrubs and a tree or two. It’s on the way to becoming a tree island—a hammock—according to the lecture we had last night. Andy veers toward it. “Hang on,” he shouts, his mouth warm next to my ear.
    My heart races as he takes direct aim at the patch of dry land. When we hit, the airboat slows and looks as if it’s going to stop, but Andy gives it more gas and uses the stick to flap the rudders from side to side. The rear of the airboat fishtails. We are nearly to the far edge when it stops completely.
    â€œGo stand in the bow,” Andy yells in my ear.
    I climb down and step cautiously through the frogs to the front of the boat. Andy opens the throttle full blast and uses the stick to flap the rudders again. The boat moves sluggishly until it lurches off the edge and back into the shallow water and thick, short saw grass. After I climb back into my seat, Andy runs the airboat in a tight circle, over and over, until he’s flattened the saw grass into what looks like a crop circle. He moves the throttle to neutral.
    â€œWhy’d you do that?” I ask.
    â€œI thought maybe you’d like to run her, and this gives us a launch pad. Thick grass, water hyacinths and mud can stop an airboat, not to mention dry land.” He grins.
    â€œCan I really drive?”
    â€œSure. Nothing to it, just don’t try to show off.” His eyes sparkle.
    He steps down to help me climb into his seat. “The most important thing is how you steer. Push the stick right, you go left, left for right. You’ll get the hang of it.”
    Right away, I give it too much gas, pull back, and end up in neutral again. I test the rudders, which sways the back end like a duck walking. As I get a feel for the boat, I ease the throttle forward, adding gas slowly until we’re going pretty fast, but not fast enough to be scary.
    A couple of times, Andy had raced at a solid-looking wall of cattails, or a dense stand of saw grass, and hadn’t even slowed down. Just when it looked like we’d fly up the side and flip over, the boat flattened a path