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  1. #1
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    Offshore Racing Lives........in an unlikely but familiar place

    There were 3 races held this weekend. One in New Jersey, one in North Carolina, and one on Long Island. While I am sure that the races in NJ and NC featured heroic performances, bedazzling talent, and nail biting, though speed controlled, finishes.... and included local iconic favorites, including legendary, Billy Martin, Joe Sgro, Peter Meyer and others whose presence would have tripled the impact of the the local event, the story of the weekend occurred today in the waters off Long Island.

    Let me set the stage for you........

    The Around Long Island Marathon, conceived by Billy Frenz and Charlie McCarthy, as a tribute to the late Don Aronow, was set on a fabled course that many of the most respected water warriors in powerboat racing history had battled on. It is a humbling course to say the least. Historically Around Long Island has captured the minds and hearts of a legion of true racing fans because it’s grueling length and unpredictable conditions has left a trail of champions scratching their heads and soothing their aching limbs after attempting to conquer its challenging layout. It’s a course for true boat racers, conceived by boat racers, and only mastered by the best the sport has ever seen. Bakos, Sirois, Bianco, Lewis, Genth, and Aronow, have all earned their stripes on Long Island’s beautiful but dangerous coastline. There were years when the heavy, well funded favorites fell by the wayside and smaller, humble boats helmed by weary, bloody, stubborn, competitors who all but dragged their hulls across the finish line to victory…..like the time that Rick Stein won the event in a single outboard 16 footer over boats up to 35 feet in length with many times the power….. Like I said, a humbling course with ghosts of racing’s past haunting it still.

    Clearly the majority of the current bunch of racing teams preferred partying at Atlantic City before going out to run side by side in GPS limited formation, or running in single boat classes in Morehead City. Many of the other armchair warriors, who, intended to shake off the rust and enter, had second thoughts or failed to get their equipment ready in time. It became clear the very few guys really have the onions needed to take on this grand daddy of racing challenges.. The bottom line was that only 5 race capable boats made it anywhere near the starting line and only 3 entries actually had the capability and GPS tracking beacons to make a race out of it. One of those was badly outclassed.......... and therein lies the root of this amazing story.

    Outer Limits was represented with two dreadnaughts, each capable of breaking Stu Hayim's 3 hour and 20 minute record time for the 257 mile course. One was a new 50' OL Cat with dual 1250 Mercruisers, a world class throttleman, and all the lovely bells and whistles that go along with such a craft. The other was a brand new, purpose built quad diesel 50 foot V bottom sponsored by a major executive consulting group and owned by a professional British team intent on racing in the Round Britain, Cowes Torquay and other iconic European point to point events against big bucks teams with International cash and flair. In short, either of these boats were enough to make the event World class........Both hulls were crafted of the gold, frankincense and myrrh that OL’s mysterious craftsmen layer carefully into micro finished molds before baking them to perfection in an impressive autoclave. Hardware was crafted of exotic materials calculated to endure anything that Mother Nature could dish out. Billet handiwork abounded in both creations and rumor has it that secret NASA metals brought back from deep space exploration was forged into the alloys for the drive components. To say these boats were Uber craft underestimates their true potential. I think they actually exhumed Picasso to lovingly apply the paint on the buttery surface of these extraordinary marine starships.

    And then there was ....the other guy.

    Joe De Fusco (Sonic30SS on various websites) brought his modest pride and joy over from Connecticut. He and skilled sail boat navigator, Jonathan Tobin, also saw fit to add some weight and experience by inviting veteran racing star, Charlie McCarthy, along for guidance. Joe was a veteran of a few poker runs and often journeys on Long Island Sound's turbulent and confusing waters. Certainly this team was eager and capable of racing, but you have to also consider the knife they brought to this gunfight. Joe's screen name describes his aging 30 foot Sonic, powered by twin 310 small block PCM V-8's which he installed himself a few years ago. These modest power plants hooked up to the water through Mercruiser Alpha SS drives............! You read me correctly....Alpha drives...in an Offshore Race!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The boat has been in seasonal service for decades and while in good shape, was smaller, slower, and clearly outclassed by its mind bending rivals from somewhere north of engineering nirvana........ This race was clearly lopsided.....against the Sonic 30's crew.

    Equipped with GPS tracking beacons and a web based software package designed to track America's cup races. The competitors idled out of Manhasset Bay towards the entrance buoy that marked the start finish of this fabled event. After a brief pause the race started at 9:13 AM and, as expected, the big 7 figure cat hurtled to triple digit speeds as it disappeared into the salty haze in the general direction of the sun. Meanwhile the 4 Euro Diesels in the massive monohull struggled mightily against their own weight to finally bring the bow over and began to spool up to its near century mark cruising speed.
    Oh yeah….the other guy headed east with them at about 60 mph……. Seas seemed to be ideal, 2 to 3’s with an even pattern out of the northeast

    By the Smithtown Bay stretch it seemed obvious that Outer Limits was going to have a good day. The GPS beacons were beaming locations, direction, and speed (in knots) back to race HQ and all was right in the Hi performance stratosphere that only a few individuals can experience or afford. The ghosts of Long Island races past seemed millions of miles and many years…..away. And then these spirits returned carrying an ironic sense of humor.

    First the cat, clearly on pace for a record although navigating on the rougher southern shore of the Sound made an abrupt turn into Port Jefferson and appeared to be stopping at the town dock. Reached by cell phone the crew announced that the water was “too rough” to set a record, and they had stopped for breakfast… I swear at that moment I heard a groan emanating from Sam Griffith’s grave.

    Then the mighty British diesel entry made an abrupt reversal in course and slowed to 7 knots…..Later communication revealed that some failed pieces in their unobtainium laden drive train had rendered two engines useless…… I swear I heard Carl Kiekhaefer laugh out loud simultaneously.

    All of this happened out of sight of the Sonic whose crew were running right down the center of Long Island Sound in a perfect course for Orient Point. Later they reported that there had been no seas of any significant size in that leg of the race… Perhaps, Red Crise or Bob Nordskog were calming the seas in front of them from their perches in heaven’s race control?

    We watched spellbound as the little global mapping widget moved inexorably into the lead!!! We high fived as it passed one, then the other of OL’s million dollar duo. We watched with excitement as it picked ts way past Rocky Point, Matittuck, and Green Port…and honed in on Plum Gut for what had to be the roughest leg… Orient Point to Montauk…. where racers are separated forever from posers, wannabes, and never weres.

    And then the little Sonic icon on the map disappeared……

    Knowing the course as I do, I realized that this is where we actually lost boats for up to two days in the past. This was were the Sound begins to meet the ocean…..this was where the bad things live.

    We waited, we worried, we wished,……..

    And then just as all seemed to be lost, that this iconic race might be reduced to Frenz’s folly…. That nobody would even reach half way… a liitle shape appeared on the screen…the Sonic was on the South Shore heading Westbound……they had turned at Montauk and were still in the race. We saw her head into Shinnecock….and I took a chance and called Charlie….he answered after what seemed a thousand rings on his cell phone and I heard a sort of defeat in his voice…. The power steering had failed, a trim pump had gone away, and they felt weary and defeated by the two juggernauts that had ran away and left them behind……. I took a pause and said…”Charlie, tell those guys not to quit,,,,You’re winning this damn thing!!!!!!” . I heard amazement, joy, and strength all soaring back into his voice. They fueled up, fixed the steering and blazed their way into history……….. Because a couple of hours later they had won the Don Aronow Memorial Around Long Island Marathon!....

    Not bad for a hopeless underdog, who had no chance and nothing going for them but desire and respect for the historical opportunity that comes along so rarely in a racers life.

    Joe and Jonathan earned my respect today. Charlie already had it. You see there are 3 heros tonight, probably rubbing linament on aching limbs and bandaging the deeper gashes. I imagine the boat will never be quite the same either….. They have no sponsor or backer, They had no mega boat, or big budget team. They had no support trailers, helicopter, or bikini clad groupies. They didn't have star struck fans drooling over the cash invested in their efforts. All they had was heart, desire and a sense of history. But they are winners… real winners…...and by God they are champions in an event that has reduced the great ones to mincemeat time and time again.

    They can sleep well tonight and smile with satisfaction.

    I know somewhere Don Aronow is smiling too……..
    __________________
    Last edited by T2x; 09-21-2010 at 11:22 AM.
    20 Foot Switzer Wing 2 X S3000 (Dust'n the Wind II)
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  2. #2
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    Great post thanks
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  3. #3
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    Real good stuff!

  4. #4
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    Congrats to Charlie, Joe and Jonathan. Sometimes you don't have to be fast, just persistent. Other times you have to be both. And then there is the KISS method. That almost always seems to do well. Best Regards - SteveSirois

  5. #5
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    Congrats to them, that is great! I was watching on the GPS tracker, and had to step out for a little bit, when I came back about two hours later, I saw the OL icons back in the harbor on my map, and figured they had just screamed through the course, then the posts started that they had broke, and the sonic was still running....shows what a little dedication can do. Hats off to the Sonic team....I read they spent weeks prepping.....great story all around

    1982 12' Eli with 7.5 Evinrude (sold)
    1963 16' Glasspar with 40 hp Evinrude (sold)
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    One good hour on the water will make you forget 24 bad hours on land

  6. #6
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    HMMMM,

    Where would ya be without GPS and Cell phones, ya woulda had a race with 3 boats quitting

  7. #7
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    A Good day for real offshore racers....

  8. #8
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    Rich...Thank you for an incredibly well told commentary of the event. I grew up in the small town of Rye, NY. and spent all my childhood days on the Sound. Thanks for the memories!

  9. #9
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    Very nice...I love it when that happens!

    Tiger

  10. #10
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    Rich---Good story---Great finish!!

  11. #11
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    Quote Originally Posted by rchevelle71 View Post
    HMMMM,

    Where would ya be without GPS and Cell phones, ya woulda had a race with 3 boats quitting
    You mean no one had a compass and a chart taped to the deck?

    Great story Rich..well told..

  12. #12
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    I applaud and salute all involved,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Great story Rich,,,,,,,,,
    To Everyone... Thats the SPIRIT

  13. #13
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    I can't thank Rich enough for his kind words for all involved. I would like to add some to his thread if I may. This is really the story of Joe and Jonathan, but I did have the best seat in the house to observe, so here goes.

    I was very fortunate to be offered a crew position on a boat that was entered in the Don Aronow Memorial Around Long Island Race this past weekend. It is a mid 80’s Sonic that is 30 feet long and powered with twin small blocks with Alpha Mercruiser drives with cooling showers on them. It is a production boat, not a special one off race boat.

    The owner of the boat Joe De Fusco is not only the rigger, chief mechanic and truck driver for the team, he is also the driver and throttleman on the boat. He invited a friend of his to be the navigator. His friend Jonathan Tobin is not a power boater, but he is a highly experienced racer from the world of offshore sailboat racing with many experiences including a Trans Pac race under his belt. Jon has gone on a few poker runs with Joe, so he kind of knew what to expect…not really, as he found out quickly, poker runs and offshore races are very different.
    <O></O>
    I was the last member of the crew and as Joe explained very clearly up front, the boat only had two bolsters and the only place for me would be to stand behind the bolsters and astride of the life raft case mounted on the floor. I did have grab handles on the backs of the two bolsters but no lean back bolster. Knowing exactly what I was getting into I readily accepted the very generous invitation.
    <O></O>
    I won’t go into the various promises by both individuals and boat companies to enter the race, but when race day dawned we had just 5 boats. Two big state of the art Outerlimits, a cat and big deep vee, with a British Team on board. The third boat was an 18 foot Donzi entered by a team that had never raced before, but had driven all night from <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com<ST1Virginia</ST1</st1:State> just to get here and be part of the event. Unfortunately on the trip up, the water pickup for the engine had broken after rubbing against part of the trailer. I believe the trailer was borrowed, so they could make the journey and they didn’t realize the boat had shifted enroute. Another single engine boat, a 27 footer was entered, but the owner stated beforehand that he was only going to run with us at the start and go down the sound a short way. Last but not least was our little 30 foot Sonic.
    <O></O>
    The big 53 foot Magnum owned by Guy La Motta was our pace boat. As we rumbled toward the start, one of the boats jumped the start by not waiting for the green flag and our driver started to go also. I tapped him on the shoulder and told him to wait for the green, he backed off and in a few seconds the Magnum was abeam us and soon the remaining boats lined up and then the green was up and the race was on.
    <O></O>
    The Outerlimits cat was soon just a dot of spray ahead of us and we began to settle into a nice pace. The navigator was holding a hand held GPS unit and was signaling the port or starboard adjustments to our driver. We had a newly installed front fuel tank with 50 gallons in it and our plan was to burn that off first so that when we hit the ocean, we would just be using the factory installed fuel tanks and not have to worry about the weight sloshing around this jury rigged front tank. It would also shift the center of gravity further back.
    <O></O>
    The inevitable happened next, the 52 foot, quad engine deep vee British entry Outerlimits had spooled up and was now passing us and headed off to catch the cat on the horizon. We realized this was the first run for the deep vee and there might be some bugs still to be worked out, but we were hoping they would do well after the enormous expense they had in coming to support our race. We waved good luck to them on and watched as their spray began to grow in the distance chasing the cat.
    <O></O>
    Now the hard part of the race began. This is the time when you need mental discipline to be alone and not have a boat to race against or the crowds to cheer you on. Only the crew on the boat knows for sure if you are pushing or not. Are you babying the boat and yourself or are you pushing as hard as you can and going for the win, regardless of what the facts are telling you? I am very happy to report this crew was pushing just like they were old hands at this stuff.
    <O></O>
    At this point on the north side of the sound, the water was fairly calm and I took advantage of that fact, to actually sit down in the rear bench seat and get down out of the wind over the deck…..this was a big mistake as I will explain later.
    <O></O>
    We ran through the front tank in about 50 minutes….so I informed the crew that our burn rate was 1 gallon per minute at the speeds we could run in calmer waters. We stopped briefly to switch the fuel lines form the front tank back to the rear tanks. At that point, I was able to give Joe some old school tips about small adjustments that he could make to his driving style. He understood immediately and used them for the rest of the race to our advantage. I say at that point, because the intercoms in the helmets stopped working at about the same time the green flag was raised…old school forever, yell louder and deeper.
    <O></O>
    When the fuel was switched and we were ready top take off again, we discovered that one trim tab was no longer working, it was stuck in the up position. So Joe, very expertly began rocking the boat to trick it to make it think it was a flat bottom and head for the trough of the waves and pretty soon we were up and running again. I tapped him again and said sincerely..”Nice job buddy”.
    <O></O>
    When we were stopped for a quick moment I took advantage of that time to grab a trail bar and get it down for some more energy, that I knew we would be needing in the ocean. As the trip went on, I began feeling very sickly and could feel my strength starting to drain away. I thought for sure the trail bar had been bad and was making me sick. As we rounded Orient Point and heading for Montauk, I was having a hard time holding on the bars behinds the bolsters and was trying to find a more steady position to brace myself.
    Suddenly just as we rounded Montauk, and on one of the bigger waves that was rolling under us with a lot of energy, the boat veered to the left and we all were thrown hard against the starboard side. Joe quickly informed us the power steering was gone and he was going to look under the hatch to see if a belt had popped off.
    <O></O>
    While Joe was checking the engines, I changed positions with Jon and I took my helmet off and sat in the cold breeze and really started feeling ready to heave that trail bar. Joe realized that it wasn’t a belt, but he did spot oil spray all over back there and knew we had a leak of the power steering fluid from one of the hoses. The waves were much too big to do much more so we headed off for our fuel stop at Shinnecock. Jon gracious allowed me to stay up front in the bolster and he assumed my old position as the navigating here was just a run down the coast to the inlet. I told thme if I didn’t fgeel any better drop me off at the gas dock and they could continue on as I didn’t want to hold them up from going as fast as they could.
    <O></O>
    When we got to Shinnecock, the waves were very big, very big. I’m not going to get into size here, but they were big. As we approached the inlet, the waves were breaking a way offshore and then surfing into the inlet itself. Joe managed without power steering or both trim tabs to bring the 30 foot boat in front a just the right wave and then proceed to use the power to surf the wave all the way into the inlet. At one point the entire length of the boat was on the face of the wave and heading down faster and faster, but he managed to keep it straight and true and we made it safe and sound.
    <O></O>
    When we entered the inlet, we could see a lot of boats, big boats that would rise and fall with the waves. Sometimes we could see them and other times they were down in the trough. I thought to myself…this is really great to have this many boats to welcome us here at the gas stop, that Billy Frenz really put the word out. As we got closer we could see they were the day charter fishing boats loaded with people who were fishing in the inlet. We found out later, that the waves were too big for them to get out, so they just fished right there.
    <O></O>
    As we pulled into the gas dock Jon roused himself from the rear seat and said that it wasn’t the trail bar that made me sick, it was the gas fumes in the cockpit and that he now was very sick also. Since I had been riding up front in the bolster, I was now feeling much better. When we stopped we could clearly smell the fumes from the front tank. The two front positions were free of much of it as the breeze over the deck cleared it away, but the person in the back had the fumes swirl around them especially if they sat down and got lower in the cockpit. Just then the phone rang???????????
    <O></O>
    It was Rich Luhrs. He said why are you stopped? I said we were at a fuel stop and had a couple of problems…one trim tab wasn’t working, the cockpit was filling with fumes, the power steering had failed as we lost fluid and even though it was cold, Joe was soaked in sweat as he had been driving from Montauk in very big water with no power steering. Rich responded as only an old racer would…Well, get it all fixed quick and come on home as your in the lead!!!!! What did you say? I asked him. You guys are in the lead, the other boats have dropped out on the north shore, no one even made it to Orient Point, so come on home and you’re the winners.
    <O></O>
    <O></O>
    <O></O>
    Last edited by Top Banana; 09-20-2010 at 03:22 PM.

  14. #14
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    And to continue......

    So here is the scene at this point. We are stopped for fuel and repairs and we just found out we are in the lead. Jon had jumped up on the dock and was getting as much clean air into his lungs as possible. Joe had started the fueling process and I was trying to make mental checklist of priorities to get done. Meanwhile all of my experience was trying to do me in at this point. I kept thinking, never quit, never quit, we didn’t really know what was wrong with the other boats and I thought they too may be just stopping for some necessary repairs and they would soon be up and coming after us. I could already hear their engines as they tried to pass us in the ocean. At this point we just had to slow down and focus our efforts on what needed to be done.

    I stopped Joe and got his attention and said remember..Fast is Slow and Slow is Fast. Just do one task at a time and work slowly on it so that it is done the best way possible. He repeated… Fast is Slow and Slow is Fast, back to me and just grinned. I got it, he said.
    <O></O>
    The first problem we encountered was the gas dock had no power steering fluid for the power steering pump. So we decided that the lowest grade of motor oil was the next best thing and we got a few quarts of that. (I remembered when Bobby Saccenti and Sonny Miller won the first Benihana in La Tortuga, they were running low on oil and when they needed more and didn’t have any, they used anything they could find that was close to it, like transmission fluid). When our pump was full again, we started the engine and I turned the wheel back and forth until Joe, who was under the hatch could spot the leak in one of the hoses. We shut the engine off and took stock of what we had onboard to repair the problem. No replacement hoses, but we did have another hose that was slightly larger than the broken one. Okay, slice the larger hose with a knife down the length and put it around the leaky hose, then put on as many hose clamps as we could scavenge and it would at least slow down the leak for awhile.
    <O></O>
    Next problem was the trim tab that would stay in an up position. Joe found a piece of wire that he used to hot wire the pump to go down to the lowest setting. For some reason the pump worked lifting the tab, but it would not push it back down again. While he was back there, he also discovered that the old return lines from the original Mercury fuel injection engines, was leaking. That was part of the fume problem, but most of it came from the front tank for some reason. He secured the return line the best he could and we were ready to go again. Jon was back, good and healthy and I had recovered fully from being away from the fumes for a while.
    <O></O>
    I told Joe that so far he was running the boat as good as anyone could. I sensed that he had some frustration with some of the brutal wave conditions between Orient Point and Montauk. I told him the only problem he was really having, was asking this little boat to handle those conditions at speed. The only solution for it was boat length. He was doing just fine.
    <O></O>
    We now faced the exit out of the inlet. We had some hearty cheers from the fishermen on the charter boats and we started out. We couldn’t determine where the no wake zone ended, but we were already being lifted by the rollers, so Joe just nailed it and off we went. The boat rolled onto a plane and he began to trim up the problem tab….it all worked beautiful. The face of the waves coming in were a sight to behold, reminded me of <ST1Argentina</ST1 in 1978, Big Momas for sure. Joe kept it steady and didn’t rush anything, but just felt our way out past the breaking surf line and still out even more just to be safe. When we finally turned west, we were at least a half mile out and clear of all the breaking waters.
    <O></O>
    The new riding position for me now, was standing directly behind Joe with my head leaning out over the side to keep inhaling clean air. As we encountered various conditions and seas, he would ask for some suggestions regarding trim and I gave him my best guesses and it seemed to work just fine.
    <O></O>
    The beach along the south side of the island would go out of sight as we dropped in a trough and then would reappear as we came up again, over and over we repeated this same scenario. I watched in amusement as the two new offshore racers experienced the weightlessness of the jumps. Back in the days to pass the time of the long legs, we counted the seconds we were in the air as 1001, 1002, 1003 etc. And as in all races, there is that one wave that we all remember. When our turn came for the biggest wave to find us, both Joe and Jon just looked at each other when we landed and went… Whoaaaaa!!!!
    <O></O>
    <O></O>
    Last edited by Top Banana; 09-20-2010 at 03:20 PM.

  15. #15
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    And a bit more here......

    By now the boat was starting to come undone a bit. Remember this is a family cruiser, not a purpose built race boat. At the fuel stop, we carefully stowed the cabinet doors that had come flying off and repositioned the other items that had come loose. Before the rear seat was stowed again, the extra quarts of motor oil were put safely away for future use later in the race. This was also the official burial of the intercoms. This was a safety move, as on one wave off Montauk, we came down so hard the intercom unit on Joe’s belt flew off and came right in front of me. I grabbed it by the cord as it was headed over the side and managed to flip it forward so that Jon could catch it and shove it in a compartment near him….all this while holding on with one hand and trying not to throw up on my new Lifeline jacket. Great fun, better than golfing, for sure.

    On the run toward <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com</st1:City>Manhattan</ST1, we were amused by the two strings of white something or other that kept flapping over the deck of the boat. I guessed the Don Aronow race stickers had come to tatters, but we found out that the calking between the deck and the hull had loosened with each crash and was now flapping back at us like long tethers of a spider web. My hands were now starting to cramp up as the grab handle behind the bolster was fine for my left hand, but the thin grab rail on the right side of the boat was too small for that hand and I couldn’t get a good grip
    <O></O>
    Meanwhile up front, Joe had forgotten to put his gloves back on and was now driving and throttling with bare hands. I thought that somebody is going to have a big blister tonight. Jon was trying to adjust to the conditions as best he could, but he was still in the process of learning how to do a smooth reentry by using your legs for shock absorbers and every now and then I could hear a loud groan or sound over the engines, as he caught a bad landing again and again.
    <O></O>
    As I had plenty of free time I could let my mind wander to the great racers of the past who covers these same waters in their quest for glory. As good as the win was going to be, I trembled having to face Brownie who could now say, “Good show, but I won that race in a smaller boat (28 foot Donzi) and in less time (under 5 hours) over 40 years ago.”
    <O></O>
    I also remembered my phone call with Bobby Sacenti just before I got on the boat to go out to the start. He reminded me of the trick we used to pull on new drivers when they first showed up to race in Open class. They would be there with all new equipment and beaming from ear to ear with eager anticipation of joining this new fraternity. We would sidle up to them and say….”It is kind of secret with the Open class guys, but there is a $1,000 prize for the first guy who can get to the first checkpoint, just wanted you to be aware of it.” Our hope of course, was they would go all out and blow up before the real racing started. Bobby said to go and tell the two Outerlimits guys, it would make their day.
    <O></O>
    Back to the race….we are still heading west…damn that is one <st1:City w:st="on"><ST1long beach</ST1</st1:City>. I have now started to visualize the towers of <st1:City w:st="on"><ST1Manhattan</ST1</st1:City> on the horizon. I knew we still had miles to go but I could dream couldn’t I? I also kept looking back over my shoulder, just in case the repairs had been done to the Outerlimits boats. Joe was still pushing and the waves were still building and the little Sonic was still looking good. My new job was to take one of the water bottles that had now broken loose and was rolling around the floor and squeeze enough water out of it to clean Joe’s glasses, as they were coating over with salt with each major hit and spray blowback we were taking. I managed to do this by letting go and squirting while we were in mid air….then grabbing on for the landing and then wiping dry on the next launch.
    <O></O>
    As we closed toward <st1:City w:st="on"><ST1New York City</ST1</st1:City> I could see that the power steering was running low on fluid and Joe was fighting to keep the boat straight on the landings. We would soon be stopping and topping off again, hopefully we could make it out of the ocean waters and into the harbor, where that kind of work would be much easier. As we passed <ST1Coney Island</ST1, we took one of the biggest landings of the trip and I could both hear and see Jon physically take it all the wrong way. Without the helmet, I’m sure he would have tears in his eyes on that one. But soon we were into calmer waters and things started to look up…..until we passed a ferry and heard a loud pop and the boat lurched to the port side.
    <O></O>
    We came off plane and checked under the hatch and found a missing belt on the power steering. We used this stop to fill up the power steering pump again and put on the new belt and of course hot wire the trim pump again to get that tab down so we could get on plane……pretty soon we could do this in the dark.
    <O></O>
    <O></O>
    As we got moving again, I checked with Joe to remind him to not lose this race by doing anything stupid. slow down for every boat wake, be careful in the <ST1East River</ST1 for refrigerators, dead horses or whatever else may be coming down. He said he was already thinking that way and we took off for the final leg. At this point I must confess, I became a bit weepy as we passed by the Statue of Liberty and I thought how blessed we were to be able to defend this cup from going over to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><ST1Britain</ST1lace</st1:country-region>. How this is what America is all about, not having the best or even being the best, but never, ever giving up or losing the confidence in ourselves that this can be done and will be done.
    <O></O>
    The <ST1East River</ST1 was deceptively calm for a while but then coming toward us, there was a big red fireboat from the NYFD, putting up a wake like we were back at Montauk again. Joe handled it very smoothly and we were then looking for the last few bridges to go under.
    <O></O>
    There was a bit of confusion in the many waterways of the river but thanks to Jon’s careful navigational preparation, he knew exactly where to go and where to stay away from. We were out from under the last bridge and heading toward the finish. We swept past the finish line and Joe threw the boat in a dramatic 180 degree turn. (Kind of like the NASCAR guys do after they win) We high fived each other and just let the victory sink in. David against Goliath. One for the little guys. If you can conceive it and believe it, you can achieve it.
    <O></O>
    We headed back into the harbor and were met by the guy from Virginia in his Donzi that he fixed up enough to be out there to welcome us in and little Sam (Minihawk) in his little outboard. As we pulled up to the marina, we could see that not only were our own friends and family there, but the entire British crew had made their way back from the harbor where they left their boat, to be on hand to welcome us back in and congratulate us on the victory. Real show of class there for sure.
    <O></O>
    Last edited by Top Banana; 09-20-2010 at 03:26 PM.

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