Thursday, 10 May 2012

But first, we needed a boat.


The experts will tell you that the first thing you should do when looking for a boat is to define your navigation project in order to know what sort of boat will best suit your needs.  This is a good exercise to do.  And once you’ve done it, you should promptly wad up the paper you wrote it on and throw it in the nearest trashcan.  Such an exercise is like asking your mother what kind of man you should marry.  The only thing that will sustain you through all the expense and frustration of boat ownership is lust.

Our search for the perfect boat: The Dating Game
If my search for the perfect boat were The Dating Game, Bachelor Number 1 could only be labelled “the Metrosexual”;  flashy and attractive, but not nearly robust enough for the rough stuff.   

Bachelor Number 2 was “Mr. Viagra”; artificial performance in an old hull.  

Bachelor Number 3 was “Keith Richards”.  No further explanation required, me thinks.

Bachelor Number 4 was a bit more promising, but the only name that came to mind was “Sloppy Joe”.  This was the same model as the Metrosexual, but outfitted for more performance, with detachable forestay and headsails, davits on the stern, and a winch on the mast.  Unfortunately, the upkeep of the boat was lamentable, the rigging rusty, the repair jobs sloppy, and the sails looked like my grandmother’s panties drying on the line.  After 3 visits, we made an offer that was just this side of insulting.  We’re still waiting to hear back.

Bachelor Number 5 was “The Family Man”.  A steady, comfortable, safe, reasonably well-maintained floating camping car.  On the lust scale, this boat was a 3 out of 10.  We said we’d think about it. (When we’re in our 80s.)

And then there he was, just in time to save us from the jaws of despair.  It was too good to be true.  It was “MacGyver”; a little bit of age on him, but capable of doing anything and going anywhere, with a certain style to boot.  We were in love. 

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