Old boats (and jacks) feature in all the “best stories”
Issue 21 : Nov/Dec 2001
Have you ever wondered what makes a boat good instead of just new or old? Canoe & Kayak magazine posed a similar question several years ago. They asked subscribers to tell their “best canoeing stories.” Imagine their surprise when, in this era of Kevlar, carbon fiber, Royalex and rotomolded polysomethingorother, 95 percent of those stories took place in aluminum canoes.
My story was in that stack. It was about a wrinkled Ouachita Lake canoe named The Taxi. It was yellow, made of aluminum, and full of dents. It had a permanent left turn built into it from a snaggle-toothed keel. You were being kind if you only called it ugly. I ran the Allagash River in it. I ran anything in it. It was indestructible.
The 18-foot Blue Hole MGB Tripper that replaced it doesn’t go to the same places. I don’t want to scratch the dark green Royalex hull or crack the silky oak gunwales. But it sure is pretty. There is a message in that.
Think back on the “best stories” you’ve told. The car stories are never about the new mini-van in the garage. Instead, they involve an old Chevy with one door that won’t open from the inside, no choke, and 50 pounds of tools in the trunk. A swimming trip to the lake becomes the stuff of legend. Somehow it always makes it home, even if there are a few unplanned stops along the way.
“Best boat stories” read the same way. They’re about cranky engines, threadbare sails, and water in the wrong places. We always had enough extra stuff on board to bring the wee beastie home. The boat, and we, were stronger for it. A new car/boat/canoe is faster, cleaner, easier to maintain, and has more curb appeal. Why doesn’t it feature in the “best stories?”
The tools are the first clue. It isn’t the vehicle that makes a “best story.” It’s us. The choke may not work, but a shampoo bottle filled with gas is a workable substitute. The tires may be bald, but the trunk holds three spares and a Cadillac Eldorado bumper jack that can lift the whole car. We know how to get that old slug home in spite of its infirmities. It isn’t going to make it by itself. It and we are partners in an epic struggle. Even if it’s only a trip to the corner store for a quart of milk, it’s a great trip.
The blood and sweat that rescue a derelict boat put life into an inanimate object. It lives when it floats again after being rescued from a life sentence on the hard. But it’s not just the boat that comes alive when the first swell lifts it from the cradle. The part of us that is in the boat does, too. The journey from old to good is what “best stories” are made of.
Marinas are full of boats that people two-footed up to until they were too big, too hard to handle, and too new. Their owners stopped telling stories when they no longer needed three spare tires and an Eldorado bumper jack to sail home. They wonder why sailing isn’t fun anymore and blame career, changing priorities, and the empty nest when they can’t put a finger on the real problem. To paraphrase a recent political slogan, “It’s the boat, stupid!” If they want sailing to be fun again, they should sell the gold plater, buy an old boat, and start the journey at the beginning. A Cadillac jack might be a good idea, too. They have a way of showing up in “best stories.”
Peter grew up on Peconic Bay on the end of Long Island, N.Y. He raced Lightnings during his formative years and spent a portion of the 1980s as a member of the Hudson River Sloop Clearwater Foundation. These days he spends more time in a sea kayak and a Newport 27s MkII. A sailplane pilot and car nut, he’s been published in a variety of aviation and automotive publications.
Thank you to Sailrite Enterprises, Inc., for providing free access to back issues of Good Old Boat through intellectual property rights. Sailrite.com
