Don't get me wrong . . . since moving to the coast kite sailors have been my only sailing companions and anybody that loves to play in wind and water is OK by me. Even the guys that I knew years ago as windsurfers who've since made the change. That said, here are some real numbers from the past couple of years:

2 - the number of times an airborne kiter came within feet of wiping me out. OK - maybe count just one since the second time we were trying to get Drew to boost over me for a local photographer.

0 - the number of times a kiter has had to rescue me.

0 - the number of times in 20+ years of windsurfing I've come close to hurting a spectator.

1 - the number of times in 6 months of flying the kite (on the beach) that I've come close to sending two bluehairs to the happy hunting grounds.

0 - the number of times I've jumped higher than a kiter.

10 - (at least) the number of 4.0 to 4.7 days in two years on the ocean side.

0 - the number of times ANY kiters rigged on those days.

5 or 6 - the number of times a kiter has passed me when I was on 7.0 or bigger.

0 - the number of times a kiter has passed me on 6.0 or smaller.

0 - number of times (so far) that I haven't been able to get back in after breaking gear or having the wind shut off.

2 - the number of kite boards I've seen carried away by the current while the kiter (wisely) chose to use the wind for self rescue.

5 - here's the sobering one. the number of times I've had to rescue a stranded kiter. Yeah - they probably would've made it in (maybe with their gear) eventually.

These are the little demons that run through my head as I try to get this kiting thing wired. I'm off to OBX tomorrow with Dylan to have one more try in the kiddie pool. Half-way hoping that Dylan will take to the kite and I'll happily get back to dancin with the one what brung me.