Volvo Penta

Last week was a big week for the boating world. Right here in Charleston, Volvo debuted a brand new, first-of-it's-kind pilot boat. This new pilot boat features three engines and a bunch of other attributes that mostly excite the male gender. The boat also had two big firefighting hoses that pump some insane amount of water per minute. That's really all I remember.

To celebrate the debut, the harbor pilots and Volvo threw a little party right outside the boat's new parking slip. Dave was commissioned to photograph the event and he brought me along as his second shooter. Before the party started, Dave and I scampered around taking pictures of the new boat and the people in charge of things. All of the Volvo Big Wigs and harbor pilots gathered on the dock and talked with folks from boating magazines and websites. Dave and I took pictures of the Big Wigs, including one that looked so much like Will Ferrell that even Dave giggled each time he saw him. The Big Wigs stayed invested in their conversation though they would occasionally peer over at me and give my camera the stink eye. I believe they were accidental stink eyes caused by a mixture of the low afternoon sun and general confusion about who I was and why I was present, for this was no party for ditzy twenty-somethings.

After all the boating banter, the pilots took the Big Wigs for a ride in the boat and while Dave photographed from the dock, I got to climb aboard and capture the delight of the Big Wigs and reporters. I mostly stayed out of their way as they looked around and talked engines. I did get to stand on the very tip top of the boat while they demonstrated those firehoses I liked so much. I was also taken down into the engine room by a very pleasant fella who thought I might want to photograph the beauty of such masculine fun. He delicately placed some giant ear muffs on my head and then swung open a heavy, submarine door. There sat three big squares and a maze of pipes and chords accented by knobs, both red and yellow. I stared at the mess. The pleasant man beamed. 

"These are the engines." he told me, pointing at the big squares. He looked at me earnestly. I smiled and raised my camera to my eye and pushed the button. He verbally labeled a number of things in the dark, industrial room and then waited quietly for me to take pictures. I indulged him, knowing full well that I could create no such artsy scene from this bunker. 

As we arrived back to the dock, the party was getting started. People trickled in and waiters wandered through the crowd with trays of shrimp and baby quiches. I scampered about, photographing folks looking at the boat and discussing their Tuesday. It was sensationally difficult to stop myself from taking artsy pictures that in no way could be related back to Volvo or the boat itself. I pointed my lens at a cluster of barnacles. What would Volvo do with a picture of barnacles. Focus Laura.

The Big Wigs gave speeches and cracked a bottle of champagne over the hull. I became fixated on these little cheese puffs and chased around the redheaded waitress that carried them, predicting her footpath and setting myself in it. I enjoyed being at the party. I liked watching people chatting with friends and laughing at stories. Because it was a workday, folks started slipping out shortly after the speeches but Dave and I hung around for a few last photos.