Upon first glance, it certainly seems inviting.

Go to any beach on any coastline and you’ll see them whipping through the whitecaps, usually at the direction of smiling, fit and tanned folks who appear to be having the times of their young lives.

And who among us — whether smiling, fit and tanned, or wincing, sore and pasty — wouldn’t want that that?

Dare I say… probably no one.

So with that as lofty motivation, I decided my adventurous Tween Waters mission for the month was to take the Jet Ski by the horns and get in on some of that “times of their young lives” action.

PittTurns out, though, that the first rule of Jet Ski Club is you do not refer to it as Jet Ski Club.

Thanks to the trademark lawyers at Kawasaki, that’s a no-no unless you’re planning to pilot one of their products.

Which, incidentally, are available for purchase in any number of places.

But for those more desirous of a vacation fling than a long-term finance, the acquisition of personal watercraft (yes, that’s the proper generic term) can best be handled barely a mile from resort property at YOLO Watersports on Andy Rosse Lane.

There, a fleet of WaveRunners — Yamaha’s proprietary label for the crotch rockets capable of up to 50 mph alongside dolphins, tarpon and whatever else that may sidle up — is available for rental in 30- and 60-minute increments.

Rentals run from $90 for the half-hour to $120 for a full — that’s per machine, not per person — and as many as three people can pile on, provided the combined weight doesn’t exceed 450 pounds and the driver is at least 16.

The ride area spans a mile-and-a-half along the coast and up to two miles offshore, and that’s aside from guided tours which take the bold and/or beautiful up to and around Cayo Costa before returning to home turf.

For the record, my wise-guy 8-year-old passenger likened my driving to that of “an old grandmother.”

FinsBut I’m not insulted. I prefer to think of it as not slow, but deliberate.

And in my defense, there were zero claims from anyone that I’d left a blinker on for 15 miles.

That said, I do see at least one advantage of burying the speedometer needle in the red.

If I’m going that fast and something resembling a shark fin zooms by, I’m pretty sure no one on land would hear me scream.

And as for the 8-year-old, he’s grounded until he’s old enough to drive himself.