The big day had finally come; the day we were to embark on the 200 mile journey to sail my new, (to me) boat to its home port. Evie had never been on a boat before, and I wondered how she would fare. But as we pulled up to the dock I heard a squeal of excitement as she burst from the truck, ran down the dock and leaped onto the boat. I had never seen her so happy, running up and down the decks, doing a little jig on the bow, handling all the stays and halyards and hugging the mast. She even did two cartwheels and landed in the cockpit; all the while howling with delight. At first sight, Evie had fallen in love with the magnificent 42 foot Tayana sailing vessel.
Unfortunately, my boat was the 1970 Oday sloop in the next slip. I was just about to break the news to her when the owner emerged from the cabin brandishing a handgun and threatening to ventilate poor Evie. As the reality set in, Evie had that same look my mom had the day our dog bit grandma. She looked at me, then at my boat, then threw herself down and started hugging the man's ankle screaming that she had been tricked and that she would not leave this boat. The owner was hurling epithets and threats and had cocked the gun and was aiming it with both hands. I was perched on the gunwales pulling on Evie's legs. Just then the owner's wife poked her head out of the cabin and said, " Oh, you invited some friends to dinner dear...?"
With that distraction I was able to extricate Evie and drag her, still screaming, over to the next dock. As she stood there sobbing, looking down at the old boat with the chalky paint job, I tried to cheer her up, "much of that duct tape is new," I said. Evie stood staring, unmoved. Sensing that industry might alleviate some of the tension, I suggested that she load the potato chips while I go settle the bill with the marina.
Which can be a bit unsettling. I had had the boat reviewed by a surveyor, the broker's cousin, who said that of the six boats he had surveyed, this one was definitely in the top ten. Just to be on the safe side, I asked the marina to take a few minutes to check out the engine and systems just to make certain everything was in working order...just a quick once over. Now I am familiar with shocks; I had experienced sticker shock, the electric chair in Indiana, Niagara Power Authority, so I was prepared when the mechanic handed me the bill for $950.00. Wide-eyed and glassy, I tried to protest, but my mouth had gone dry and all I could say was, "mumbleemoo." The mechanic's face stretched into a big smile revealing dentition that looked like a half-played checkers game. "Welcome to boating," he said as he stuffed my check into his pocket and proceeded to drag my prostrate body out the door and left me face up laying on the dock. Just then Evie came out of the ladies room and asked when do we eat dinner. Looking up at the clouds I said, "there is a girl riding a bicycle." Evie said, "its thundering and lightening..we're not going now are we...?"
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