In case anyone wonders if I’m a daredevil, give me a minute to stop laughing long enough to say Heck No. I am afraid of many things.

Some specific scenarios that make me cringe are roller coasters, elevators – especially in sky scrapers, and anything that involves deep water. And so, it was with some trepidation that I eventually relented when Spouse wanted to get kayaks.

Last summer, in the beginning of “the talks” I remained quiet in the hopes that it was a phase and he’d forget about it. That did not happen. He can’t walk the length of the house without forgetting where he put his phone, but the kayaks he remembered. I gave a barely perceptible nod or an occasional “uh huh” each time he came home with reports of kayak sightings, doing little to encourage this idea, but Spouse was on a mission.

There was one important condition to getting me on board with this purchase: they had to be open kayaks. The idea of being in a hard, plastic tube that might tip over with me stuck inside wasn’t happening. I needed to know if that bugger went upright, I’d be free to get away.

Our local Sam’s Club was displaying kayaks near the front of the store where everyone had to walk by. All right, yes, you have to walk by virtually everything in Sam’s Club – work with me here. My very observant mate, scanning the Internet, noticed a New Hampshire store had the same kayaks on sale for $50 less than the local store. He had a plan: Second Born and Best Friend could go for a ride, stop for lunch (on us), fill up her Yukon’s gas (also on us) and pick up the kayaks. Ask me if I was in agreement with having these two drive up I-95 with two kayaks strapped to the roof. Not so much.

Plan B went into effect after Spouse was subjected to The Look. The two of us would drive to Manchester with the Yukon, which (of course) we would fill up, stop for lunch (this was still going to cost him) and retrieve the kayaks ourselves. Before that plan could be set into motion, the kayaks sold out at the New Hampshire location. The local Sam’s Club, however, still had plenty. Yay.

A couple of days later my partner in crime arrived home with two huge boxes on the roof of the Yukon. It looked more like he had purchased matching caskets than kayaks. I hoped the neighbors weren’t paying attention.

I started asking friends for advice on where we could find calm waters – with zero currents – to begin this new debacle. I mean, adventure.

Last Sunday afternoon we strapped the kayaks — that’s not right. Last Sunday afternoon Spouse and Second Born strapped the kayaks to the top of the Yukon while I gathered towels, bug spray, sun block, emergency toilet paper, and hand sanitizer for our relaxing day at the pond. Life preservers and folding chairs were shoved in the car and the trek began. Thirty minutes later I was trying not to become a public spectacle in knee-deep water while clinging to Spouse and thrusting myself into the kayak seat.

This was crazy.

And amazing.

We slipped along the edge of Kennebunk Pond, soaking up the sun under our 50 SPF sun block. It was a beautiful day and a perfect opportunity to unwind. My fears were washed away as we coasted through the sparkling water.

I still had one issue to get past – climbing out of the dang thing with at least a shred of dignity intact. Spouse lent me a hand. And an arm. And a major lift out of the seat.

This was a fear worth overcoming. It felt adventurous and relaxing at the same time. I can’t wait to get out there again. If you’re hanging out at Kennebunk Pond, you just might see me out on the water. Be sure and wave. Chances are you’ll see me kayaking long before you catch me anywhere near a roller coaster.