The Amphibian

Occasionally  “The Amphibian” rose out of the water at our beach climbed up the dune then along the sandy lane in front of the cottage.

If we were lucky we got to see it lumbering past dripping water, it’s propellers still spinning,  balanced on six huge tires taller than me, three on each side in the middle,  it’s two powerful diesel engines roaring, the air vibrating with sound and power, thick black smoke blown rearward from curved exhaust pipes six or eight feet high on both sides of a raised cab where we could see the top half of the drivers face his eyes peering through three narrow windows and the individual faces of ten men looking out through five portholes on each side, before it disappeared around the curve two houses away the only remnants of its presence the decrescendo of its twin diesels moving toward the lime rock road I rode to go fishing and a black haze of smoke slowly moving west pushed along by an on shore breeze blown in from the lake before only silence filled the air …


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