DATE: Sunday, July 20, 1997                 TAG: 9707170214

SECTION: COMMENTARY              PAGE: J1   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion

SOURCE: DAVE ADDIS

                                            LENGTH:   64 lines

COOL IT, OR THE FUN POLICE WILL VISIT DERRING-DOOFUS JET-SKIERS ARE RUINING A GOOD THING

About the last thing either Norfolk or Virginia Beach needs right now is one more item on the list of fun things to do at the beach that are now illegal.

. . .However. . .

If the owners of Jet Skis, Sea-Doos and other such water-monsters don't show some restraint, their machines will soon be turning to rust out behind the garage, alongside the Lawn Darts, go-karts, three-wheel ATVs and other toys that were a lot of fun in the beginning, until they fell into the hands of morons and attracted the attention of the Fun Police.

Having spent a good part of the past four weekends baking in the sun beside the Chesapeake Bay, it's pretty easy to construct a single sentence that uses the words Sea-Doo, Jet Ski and ``moron.''

About eight out of every 10 of these water-wonders appears to be owned by a sober, intelligent guy who has his head screwed on straight and knows how to behave in public. They don't cruise the beach, they go slow near shore, and they wait 'til they're way out in the water before they light up the throttle.

Problem is, with hundreds of machines being launched every weekend, a moron factor of 20 percent starts to look pretty scary.

There was the guy who went ripping away from shore with what appeared to be a 9-month-old rug-rat sitting in his lap. (Lose Junior out there in deep water, pal, and you can change his name to ``Bait.'')

There was the girl who seemed to think that the bobbing heads of swimmers made a great slalom course, a chance practice her figure-8's. (Yeah, sis, we were right thrilled with the way you managed not to maim a single one of them. Better luck next time.)

There was the guy who did a series of high-speed, spray-tossing slides, then stopped the vehicle, stood up and pumped both fists to the skies in a precise mimicry of Rocky Balboa when he got to the top of those stairs in Philadelphia. (We on shore would be impressed, buddy, if it weren't for the fact that you were riding a machine that could be mastered in 15 minutes by a reasonably socialized orangutan.)

And there was the guy we heard, well after sunset, heading back to wherever he'd come from when it was way too dark for him to see anybody in the water. (If you were to find this guy and ask him, he'd probably say it's up to the swimmers to wear reflective clothing - or simply to stay out his way.)

These machines look like they can be an amazing amount of fun. I've never ridden one, only because I go to the beach hoping to escape the noise of lawn mowers, not to ride around on one. But, hey, every man is entitled to his own brand of fun, right?

Wrong. In careless hands, a 600-pound machine that churns out 100 horsepower and is traveling over 45 mph is big trouble waiting to happen. Just last weekend one of these things got loose and clipped four kids at the oceanfront - two of them on shore.

How many tourist-maulings do you suppose the city fathers and mothers will tolerate before they send in the Fun Police?

You Jet Skiers think that can't happen? You think it is written somewhere in the Bill of Rights that you can shred surf anywhere you like, at any speed you like? Think again. The surfers and the skateboarders can tell you what happens when a couple of lame-o's give an entire sport a bad name. And remember, those guys were a lot lighter and moving a lot slower than your piston-powered waterbuggies. MEMO: Dave Addis is the editor of Commentary. Reach him at 446-2726, or

addis(AT)worldnet.att.net.

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