Didn't Crash Into Anything Tonight!

I'm going to use this section to talk about boats, well described as "holes in the water, surrounded by fiberglass (or rotomolded plastic, in the case of many kayaks), into which you pour money."

I own three of them: two kayaks and a powerboat.  Yes, these things are, in most cases, mutually exclusive.  Being a kayaker and a powerboater is very much like belonging both to the National Audubon Society and the NRA.  "I enjoy bird watching, and once I've tired of watching them, blammo."  But remember what I said about non sequiturs.  And that this is all about me.

So tonight was a powerboating night.  Powerboating looks really easy.  Like driving, except there are no lanes to worry about.  Everything (or nothing, depending on your perspective) is paved.

The reality is nothing like this.

Picture trying to back into a tight parking space.  With no brakes.  The street is moving beneath you.  Sideways.  Your car is being blown around like something out of the Wizard of Oz.  And the car next to you has sharp, pointy metal things sticking out of it (like anchors) which seem not only temperamentally, but somehow even magnetically predisposed to gouging huge trackmarks in your pretty fiberglass.

Well, tonight -- perhaps for the first time -- I managed to park in my spot (that's landlubber for "dock in my slip") with nary a gouge.  A close call there -- but I spent the big bucks yesterday on huge (15" diameter), bulbous orange fenders ("bumpers", to the uninitiated), just for moments like these.  Spent 45 minutes (each) inflating them with a bicycle pump that kept saying "this is the weirdest freaking thing I've ever been called upon to inflate there, boss" as I pushed and pulled and huffed and puffed.  They came in very handy tonight.  No current, no wind -- but no talent either, so it was a wash.

This successful outing required a celebration.  "Moose Tracks" ice cream from one of the many home made ice cream stands strategically located between the marina and my house.

Of course, less successful outings require consolation stops... at the same ice cream stand.

But hopefully those are now a thing of the past.

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