I dove with a new buddy today, and by about ten minutes into the dive, I was in love.
My husband doesn't know it yet, but the object of my newfound passion came home with me tonight, and will stay with me a while, until I decide whether we are, in fact, meant for each other. Today, it seemed like it.
Yes, a pair of white Worthington LP85s are sitting in my car as we speak (Mo2vation, eat your heart out!) Although I suspect I was severely overweighted, I was absolutely astonished at how these lovely tanks trimmed out. For the first time in doubles, I could be STILL! I was horizontal without effort. And I could reach all valves/knobs without difficulty.
The only cloud on the horizon is that Scott may want the manifold . . . It's a Thermo, and I like them a LOT.
The down side is that I have to go back to the "lift tanks and fall into the car" method of loading them. They're just enough heavier than the 72s that I can't knee them into the car yet. And going up a boat ladder, I suspect, would require handing up my weight belt. But aaaaaahhhh . . . the joy of being balanced again!
One hundred and seventy cubic feet of gas . . . There are no limits
My husband doesn't know it yet, but the object of my newfound passion came home with me tonight, and will stay with me a while, until I decide whether we are, in fact, meant for each other. Today, it seemed like it.
Yes, a pair of white Worthington LP85s are sitting in my car as we speak (Mo2vation, eat your heart out!) Although I suspect I was severely overweighted, I was absolutely astonished at how these lovely tanks trimmed out. For the first time in doubles, I could be STILL! I was horizontal without effort. And I could reach all valves/knobs without difficulty.
The only cloud on the horizon is that Scott may want the manifold . . . It's a Thermo, and I like them a LOT.
The down side is that I have to go back to the "lift tanks and fall into the car" method of loading them. They're just enough heavier than the 72s that I can't knee them into the car yet. And going up a boat ladder, I suspect, would require handing up my weight belt. But aaaaaahhhh . . . the joy of being balanced again!
One hundred and seventy cubic feet of gas . . . There are no limits
