Two-stroke engines are miracles of instant violence. For a heartbeat, the RPMs screamed while the prop hadn't yet bitten - then BAM. The seat shoved me forward like a catapult launch.
"Trim up, gas it. When the prop bites, trim down a notch - like this. Let her settle... now prep the turn. Throttle open - don't you dare lift. Trim to the bottom marker... and throw it."
A split-second later, the world pivoted. The F3000 hooked into the turn like a fighter jet, spun 180 degrees, and fired us out the other side. Robert yanked the nose up, the hull broke free with a shudder, and we were airborne again. Then again. And again. Boats shouldn't do this, I thought. Boats can't do this.
As we idled back, I croaked: "So... how do you flip one of these?"
Robert grinned. "Oh, easy. Just back off the gas mid-turn. You'll barrel-roll before you can scream."
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