Legends Never Die

If only boats could talk. If only you could sit beside them on the dock as they recounted tales of places they’ve been, owners they’ve served, and seas they’ve battled, now wouldn’t that be something? If boats could talk, White Tornado, a 1969 Bertram race boat, would have one hell of a story to tell.

She would tell of her glory days as an overseas racing champion; and of a vainglorious fall from grace. She would tell of years spent racing Johnny Law with pallets of drugs stuffed in her keel. She would tell of how she teetered on the of brink of being down and out before being rescued by Cadillac McDaniel, yacht designer Mike Peters, and ultimately by her current owner, Nick.

Flash forward to New Year’s Day 2016. Nick, who restored White Tornado, stands behind the helm, rolling foam earplugs between his thumbs and forefingers before lodging them deep in his ear canals. He proceeds to tie the straps of his racing cap under his chin; it’s a knot that keeps the plugs in his ears and his hat on his head. It’s also a look that he readily admits makes him appear nerdy. It’s a still afternoon at Key Kargo’s Ocean Reef Club. The canal that White Tornado calls home is all but deserted—the predictable result of New Year’s Eve parties that spilled well into the morning hours.

With a swift twist of the keys, all that changes; like a sleeping stallion awoken by a shotgun blast, White Tornado roars to life.

The deep, throaty rumble of the boat’s twin Mercury Racing 520s throb as she slips from her berth past the sleepy homes on the shoreline. A few minutes pass and open water now lies before us. Nick pulls back on the throttles, resting the boat in neutral as he fumbles to clip the kill switch to his belt loop. “People have died because they didn’t use these,” he says.

My heart pounds while I try to exude cool confidence. I clutch the teak grab rail in front of the copilot’s seat with both hands, secretly hoping Nick doesn’t notice my white-as-a-ghost knuckles.

He lays into the throttles and the boat lurches forward and onto plane almost instantaneously. Long stretches of turquoise water and small, uninhabited islands blur past as if in a dream, as White Tornado settles into a 60-plus-knot gallop. Nick wears a smirk of pride as he pulls the boat into wide, swooping figure-eights.

I take the wheel—being sure to clip the kill switch to my belt (I don’t need to be reminded to do so) and push on the throttles. I presumably wear a smirk that says, Holy s—, I can’t believe I’m driving a Bertram race boat! Any attempt at coolness has been abandoned. It’s flat calm and the boat’s handling is surprisingly silky for the speeds we’re making. Sporadic boat wakes provide fleeting feelings of weightlessness as White Tornado bounces atop them. I try to imagine I’m the boat’s former driver, Vincenzo Balestrieri, battling the likes of Don Aronow in an open-ocean sprint.

Picture of Daniel Harding

Daniel Harding

One of the lucky ones who was born into boating, Dan grew up cruising aboard his family’s 33 Egg Harbor. Marinas and boatyards served as summer school and the foundation for a career on the water. When not chasing stories for this magazine he can be found cruising Long Island Sound with his wife, son and faithful (furry) first mate Salty.