Crash Course, Derek Fee [highly illogical behavior .txt] 📗

not the type of man to be trifled with. But that’s not a bad trait in an offshore racer. Most of the top drivers are ruthless bastards. It’s just our job to control him.” She put her arm around her father’s waist. “And don’t let’s forget, we need Kane a lot more than he needs us.”

“Take care out there today,” David said, drawing close to her. “There’s a daredevil streak in that man that could end up getting somebody killed. Any sign of things getting out of control you throttle back. I’ve only one daughter and we’ve only one boat and I don’t want to pick either of them out of the water. Do you understand?”

“I get the picture,” she said, pecking him on the cheek.

“Tender scene.” Kane reappeared on the slipway dressed in his orange jumpsuit. “Not bad for something off the peg. When do we begin?”

“We’ll be competing in the European Championship which is one of the three area championships,” Morweena said. “The other two are the North American and Australian championships. The top three boats in each area assemble in autumn at Key West in Florida to decide the World Championship.”

“I know all this crap. Your father has had me watching the videos of last year’s races. Over and over.” Kane had paid particular attention to the videos of Morweena and even with the little he’d learned about the sport he’d picked up enough to know that she was good.

“Sorry for the repetition. You’ve been out on the bay I assume.”

“Up and down, over and back. Get the picture.” Kane had lost count of the number of times he had crisscrossed Falmouth Bay in a speedboat over the past three weeks.

David stood watching the two teammates sparring with each other.

“Okay,” Morweena continued. “So Dad’s been putting you through your paces with a speedboat. But there’s a world of difference between a speedboat and a Class One powerboat.”

“So I’ve heard.”

She ignored him. “The main difference, as I’m sure you are now aware, is the speed. It’s well-nigh impossible to kill yourself travelling at thirty knots an hour but it’s a different matter at a hundred and fifty. There are two phenomena you should watch out for. The first is when the bow of the boat strikes the wave on the up…” She demonstrated using her left hand as the waves and her right as the boat. “It gives the boat a lot more lift than it would normally have. If the boat is light, like at the end of a race, the hull begins to climb vertically.” Her right hand was pointing vertically upwards. “Then the stern of the boat slips forward and the boat falls back on itself, finishing upside down and trapping the crew.” She flipped her right hand over as far as it would go. “That’s called rolling and it’s the worse event that can happen in powerboat racing. It was rolling that killed both Didier Pironi and Stefano Casiraghi. The second phenomenon that occurs at speed is when the bow of the boat buries itself in a wave and starts going down.” Again, her hands mimicked the motion of waves and boat. “That’s called stuffing and it plays havoc with the forward momentum of the boat.”

Kane had learned all this theory from the videos and from David but he didn’t bother to interrupt. So much enthusiasm, he thought as he stared into her clear blue eyes. He had thought that most of the danger in this gig would be from the villains and the powerboats. Now he wasn’t so sure. He tore his eyes away from her and looked out over Falmouth Bay. The water was relatively smooth although he could see white horses forming about a mile offshore. “Is this all theory or will there be any chance to practice?” he asked. Dark clouds were massing on the western horizon. “The sea looks pretty good but the weather might be about to change.”

Her eyes blinked. “You’re right. I thought that I’d bring you up to speed before we went out.” Much of the enthusiasm had drained from her voice. “But I suppose Dad has been drumming the theory into you. I didn’t mean to teach my grandmother how to suck eggs. Okay, let’s do it. After you, skipper.”

Kane moved ahead of her and took his place behind the wheel. This was it. He felt the excitement rising in the pit of his stomach. It was like sitting behind the wheel of a powerful car for the first time. He wanted to turn the key and rev the engines to their highest pitch. Instead he looked around the cockpit. One thing for sure was that it had not been designed with the comfort of the crew in mind. Available space had been reduced to a minimum with only enough room to accommodate the two crew. In one way it was lucky that the throttleman wasn’t the same size as him. Directly in front of him was a bewildering array of dials and screens that would have given a headache to the pilot of a jet airliner. He had spent hours poring over a schematic of the control panel trying to memorise the functions of the various dials. Pressure and flow dials, dials for trimming the craft, fuel dials for all the various tanks, engine function dials; dials, dials and more dials. For him it was overkill but what the hell did he know about it.

Morweena climbed off the edge of the slipway and moved smoothly over the stern of the boat stepping between the two raised panels where the mechanics were working on the engines before sliding into the right-hand cocoon of the cockpit.

Kane had been surprised to learn that powerboats didn’t have seats. Th driver and throttle man were squeezed into cocoons and stood throughout the race.

“So now you know all there is to know about powerboats,” she said as she settled herself beside him.

“Do I look that bloody stupid?” Kane said.

“A flash