I tried to copy and paste all the word-processing definitions for “pinnacle,” but my computer just wouldn't cooperate. It doesn't matter anyway, the definitions are woefully inadequate. I'm trying to describe the experience of visiting our neighbors from Florida, Turk and Beth, at their traditional home in New York at the culmination of our three month trip up the east coast of the United States.
And there stand Turk and Beth, welcoming us for a wonderful visit that can only be described as the pinnacle of our trip. The device is a wooden seat elevator that is worth the price of admission. The descent to the house takes a little over a minute and is just plain jaw-dropping as the lake comes fully into sight as you descend below the overhanging trees.
Even though I am an avid sports car enthusiast, a road-racing fanatic, it doesn't matter. Even without the racing or the classic cars, this week has been the pinnacle of the trip. It will be hard to top sailing on the Mary Nan II, or even the elevator ride down to her.