Issue 27: Nov/Dec 2002
SUBCONSCIOUSLY, I HAVE BEEN DIVIDING SAILORS INTO TWO groups for as long as I can remember. These observations are true of the rest of humanity also, but sailing puts things in a microcosm that I can more easily embrace. Sailors go down to their boats either to get together with other people, or they go to get away from them. They either serve elaborate meals and hors d’oeuvres aboard, or they live simply, eating sandwiches or what comes out of cans. They compete about speed, or quality of boat, or waterline length, or they say that none of this matters.
One morning recently, a new truth hit. Sailors are either mechanically inclined, or they’re not. This insight hit me not at the boat, but at home (also known to some as the Good Old Boat World Headquarters). While I made breakfast one morning, Jerry decided to sweep the front walk, which was littered with paper-thin seeds from a nearby tree. These seeds were being tracked in by staff members, consultants, FedEx drivers, UPS delivery folks . . . the usual stream of visitors to our home-based office. It was a nice gesture on his part. I appreciated it.
What was unusual about Jerry’s walk sweeping was that he used the air compressor in the garage to blow the seeds off the walk. That option would never have occurred to me. The only clean-up method that I could possibly have conceived would have involved the age-old broom. I’m intimidated by the air compressor. I don’t understand how it works, and I don’t like the noise. I’d rather mow the lawn with a push-mower than deal with that gasoline motor’s cranky and noisy habits. Jerry understands this about me, and he does the mowing (motorized, of course). He has a basement full of power tools as well. He understands these things. He communes with them.
Our boat was a simple affair when we bought it. Any sailor could have hopped aboard and sailed Mystic in her early days with us. The systems and rigging could have been understood and used without questions. But changes happen. These days it would require an owner’s manual and a lengthy orientation before allowing anyone new to take our boat out without us. Although the changes have been for the convenience of the crew, Mystic’s former owner would not recognize or feel comfortable aboard her anymore. What happened? A sailor with an appreciation for all things mechanical took possession of our simple sailing vessel.
And that is the new distinction I draw between sailors. There are the mechanically oriented ones and those who sail for the simplicity of it. You know them by their boats. The mechanical ones have gadgets. They’ve put the systems in, and they know how to fix them. They know their boats from stem to stern. They’ve crawled in every opening and applied epoxy or added wiring there. The purists go for simple systems, fewer parts to break, less to fix. They may be trying to capture the simple times associated with the past. Or they may insist on simplicity because they don’t know how to fix what breaks and fear the inevitable.
You know where I stand on this spectrum. I fear motors, electricity, mechanical systems, complexity. I don’t understand the mechanically gifted. But I do appreciate traveling in their company. I reserve special gratitude for those who would sweep the walk with an air compressor because a broom would not do. God bless them every one.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
