My 1967 Belmont Flatbottom story

[JusTrouble]

Every year my crazy Uncle John, Aunt Anne and my 2 cousins loaded up with several dirt bikes and pulled his big Chris Craft up to Shasta for 2 weeks. He got Dad to bring all of us up there with the new Belmont for the first time in August of 1967. We stayed in Cabin 18 above the Salt Creek Boat Dock every summer for many years. We got to know the people who worked in the area or had the same vacation every year. I had several boats to ski behind all day and a couple of professional slalom skiers to learn from. Those were the best vacations of my life.

Have you ever wanted something so bad that you dreamed about it every night? That is how bad I wanted to drive the Belmont from the first day I saw it. Dad never let me drive it. EVER. I saw Wayne drive it. Even Mom got to drive it when Dad wanted to ski. What the hell? Looking back, this was probably a good decision on his part. He was just taking proper care of his hot rod. Otherwise, it may not have survived so long.

Today, at 57 years old, I find this interesting for some reason. I figured out that in 1966, Dad was 36 years old and had four kids ranging from 1-10 years old. I’m thinking they must have only just discovered what had been causing those repeated pregnancies. I am the oldest and probably would have been the only if he had known what a pain in his ass I was going to be. Back then, it seemed like having such a cool toy at only 36 years old was a real privilege and I was proud as hell to show off his hot rod.

As I got older, my head got harder and my relationship with Dad got really strained. I moved in with my Great Grandma out in the country during the summer and picked grapes for money. I learned how to drive in her white, 1959, 2-door hardtop Cadillac at 15 years old. I had to come back to town when school started so I started living with friends until I got my first apartment a couple years later at 17. I worked after school and on weekends to pay for my apartment, gas for my VW bug (that was made up of 5 different crashed donors) and I ate hamburger and potatoes on bread every day. While I was proving my point, the rest of the family kept enjoying skiing together for many years. I took up skiing with other friends or hitching rides off the docks when I had days off because there was no work. I quit hitching ski rides after two funny guys towed me out to the middle of Bass Lake, disconnected my rope and drove off with my cooler full of beer. As each of my siblings grew older, got busy and moved out, Dad made fewer and fewer trips out on the boat. Wayne sold the Spiko and later moved to Idaho where he is now. I know for a lot of years, he only took it out once or twice with Mom, just to keep it going. After about a decade, our relationship improved as I matured at a stubborn pace. By then, the boating days were over and the Belmont was a trophy in his garage. I was married with a kid and a job that seemed to consume my life. There is a song that makes me think of this time in our lives – about a son growing up and not having time to spend with his father – Cat’s In The Cradle by Harry Chapin. Wish I had listened to the words back then.

Dad sorta retired and they moved to Nipomo, near Santa Maria. I offered to “store” the Belmont but he took it with him. In 2000, at 70 years old, he drug it out to some lake over an hour away. The gas in the tanks and carb was bad from sitting so long so it ran like crap. The water was really rough and they had a miserable trip. He realized he was done with it. He went home and wrote me a letter telling me I could have the boat. I still have the letter.