There are two types of pontoon captains in this world. There’s the Admiral of Leisure whose driving style can only be described as slow and majestic. Top speeds exist purely for legal documentation because slow and steady wins the day. And docking? That’s always a dignified approach where arrivals happen with precision and a top speed of 0.7 mph.

Then there’s the Pontoon Maverick who approaches the helm like it’s the cockpit of a jet fighter. With no concept of a “gradual acceleration,” the throttle is thrust forward immediately. Inches outside the no wake zone, he gleefully creates wakes large enough to be seen from space.

And these two kinds of captains invariably marry one another. This certainly happened for me.

Once I signed the papers on our beautiful pontoon a few years ago, my heart thudded to a stop and I knew I would never drive this expensive floating barge over 20 mph. But let’s be honest: I’ve always been the serious parent, the one touting the benefits of vegetables and enforcing bedtimes. I’m happiest on the sunset cruise with my seat laid back and the playlist slow and mellow.

Then there’s my husband, the “fun parent.” He’s the one who lets the kids eat dessert first, gives them unexpected gifts the week before Christmas (yes, we’re still fighting about that one) and is by far the best choice as pontoon captain when the kids want to go tubing. He makes the straightaways feel like a personal challenge and takes turns sharp enough to sling tubes (and our children) as high as possible. Even after he launched our 16-year-old daughter and her friends out of their tubes, she still begs for him to drive when it’s her turn, determined to beat his best attempts to dump her in the water.

We naturally have an agreement. He drives when we’re tubing. Kids, have your thrills. I drive when we’re cruising, launching, and approaching the dock because I need this boat to retain at least a shred of its resale value.

Usually, this works like a dream. Until it doesn’t.

Late last season, we spent a gorgeous autumn afternoon with our good friends Mike and Shanie. We left the kids and the chaos (or so I thought) at home with pizza and a movie while we enjoyed quiet conversation and the beautiful fall colors. Mike is an avid photographer, so he brought along his expensive Nikon and took a slew of impressive shots of the setting sun and colorful trees. My husband drove a bit while we were out, but I promptly took over helm duties in time for docking as we approached the marina.

Unfortunately, it felt like everyone in a 20-mile radius was also on the water that day, trying to fit in one last cruise of the season. The marina was jammed with pontoons, fishing boats, and a handful of other watercrafts. We slowly approached the dock and just as we were getting close, Mike suddenly jumped up and moved outside the bow gate to catch the boat as we slowly came in. He meant to be helpful, but he completely blocked my view of the dock and temporarily put me in a panic.

I knew we weren’t going to hit, but just to be safe, I decided to softly put the engine in reverse to slow the boat down. To my surprise there was nothing “soft” about my throttle control. In fact, you might say it was rather hard actually. I forcefully threw the engine in reverse and Mike’s momentum on the bow deck left him grabbing for air as he headed toward the water. His eyes temporarily pierced my soul just before he splashed and disappeared into the cold water. This was all done of course in front of everyone at the marina.

Shanie reacted by screaming, my husband just gave me a look of shock, and we all waited for what felt like an eternity for Mike to finally resurface.

Onlookers pulled his soggy body from the water and onto the dock while I helplessly stood at the helm just floating. I guess I wanted to gauge Mike’s mood before I attempted to approach the dock a second time. The contents of his wallet eventually dried out and to my surprise after a week-long stint in a container of rice his phone survived too. And maybe most miraculous: despite being dunked in front of everyone at the marina, Mike was the first one to ask this spring when we were going boating again.