After months of wielding tools, my idea finally took shape. First the van had to be made watertight as the rubber seals around the doors were rather worn. Then the inlet for the carburettor had to be extended with an air duct. My van has front-wheel drive so I connected a steel pipe to a mounting on the rim on either side so the wheels had enough play to serve as a rudder from the steering wheel. The pipes ran through a hinge, so the cyclic movement was converted to up-and-down behind the van, much like the reverse of steam locomotive propulsion. To both ends I fixed a monofin.
I also considered replacing the bottom by a glass panel, but that would cost me an arm and a leg.
Yester finally saw the day and with my heart beating, it didn't have anything else to do anyway, I drove to Gleninagh. The pier-protected slipway has served before as a stage in testing my contraptions. One of the most frequently visited videos, 'My Speedboat'(my YouTube videos are now accessible via the 'Video' department on my homepage!), is situated there. Unfortunately Willem was still in Belfast so he could not immortalise the maiden voyage of my hydro-van.
Seawater is known to sink her corrosive teeth greedily into tasty metal and if I would have spent the past years in a chipper van, I would have lived in a rust ruin for quite some time now. Not so with my Volkswagen. With German 'gründlichkeit' it has been galvanised and in spite of several minor collisions with Irish soil and the multiple scrapings of bramble thorns on Funny Lane there is hardly a spot of rust on the coachwork.
Next I drove, be it ever so cautious, but in full confidence, into the water.
My expectations proved to be watertight, supported by the precautions I had prepared with endless patience. A light sway betrayed the floating of the van as soon as the wheels lost footing. The draught of the van surprised me. I had calculated how much water had to be displaced to be kept afloat and had not expected that the windows would sink about halfway under water. This, however, gave an excellent view into the green blue and, touched, I delighted in the brightening sands, the swaying seaweed and the scattering fish while the van moved with a cosy hum. Even the dreaded long-threaded purple jellyfish were a ‘no detour’ delight.
After a quarter of an hour I rounded 'Black Head' and headed south. A little past the meadow Martin O'Driscoll was fishing at his usual cast and wove back in bewilderment when I honked my horn and shifted gear. Would he have a tale to tell this evening at O'Donohue's!
At Arkeen there was a bit of a current so I had to compensate my steering to cross Bridie Bay, but then I had nearly arrived at Pollenawatch.
Now every living being would have met my unusual appearance with a certain measure of amazement. But Dusty must have read my thoughts in advance and had prepared herself for my welcome. As usual she approached me from behind so I first spotted her in my rearview mirror. When she swam by my side window I saw she had dressed herself up for the occasion. She had a flap of kelp across her snout while two were undulating from her dorsal. When, in a debonair meander she turned in front of the van I saw she also trailed a few lingering strands of weed from her fluke. I could not have dreamed of a greeting more sophisticated.
When soon after that I woke up it rained cats and dogs on the roof of my van, sounding like the engine idling. Which proves that some dreams not entirely turn out to be a delusion.