The time of our lives

The engine strainers were cleaned, the intake lines cleared (and they were totally jammed full of silt and mud), running light bulbs were replaced, and it was time to go.

Not quite yet.

Then the starboard engine wouldn't start. So Matt, the mechanic who seemed so young (I found out he's 21) stated very calmly that he'd check it out, found a loose wire down in the engine room, secured it, and we were in business!

Out of the harbor we went and immediately the boat started rolling and slamming and I couldn't help but wonder why it had to be this way. I ran around securing everything with towels and paperback books, and did a lot of fast rearranging, and just as I finished I realized that we were slowing down and I looked out a window. I could see docks and fuel pumps which puzzled me as I had been told that we didn't need to refuel. Gee, the fuel pumps looked familiar, the building across the docks was identical to the one we'd just left... Could it be? Were we, after about 20 minutes, back in the same marina?

Yes we were, and my heart sank. Obviously our boat must still be having issues and I couldn't bear the thought of going above and asking what was wrong.

But I did.

Frank and Scotty were securing the boat and Hans informed me that there were gale force winds blowing and we hadn't even been out of the harbor when were already being besieged with 28 knot winds. Hans said, "That's it! We're not going through this again, we're going back."

Even though we're not going to get home on schedule now, and I'll have to call work and tell them that I'll be arriving a day late, I'm glad he made that decision.

So we settled ourselves down for the night but not before some guy suffering from 'little big man syndrome', and for some reason reminded me of Pepe LePew, came by and huffed, "You'd better let the office know you're here, you're not staying for free you know!"

"Ok," Hans said.

"You better settle up!" Pepe LePew warned, he wasn't going to let up.

"Ok," Hans said again. "I was talking to John the mechanic, and he didn't say anything about paying for last night because we were here for repairs."

"John doesn't own this place," Pepe LePew yelled back as he got into his pickup and raced to the office to tattle on us.

I told Hans to get over to the office before the boat police came and kicked us out of the marina.

Hans did get it taken care of and we only had to pay for the second night which was a help as it costs 10.00 $20.00 a foot to dock.

We hooked back up to shore power which is nice as then you can use hair dryers and curling irons to your hearts content and then John the mechanic stopped by to see if we needed anything else.

After a major arm twisting he agreed to stay for a drink (or two) and admitted that Pepe LePew was an a**hole. About an hour and 2o stories later, "...and then there was the time I was going about 150 MPH on the highway..." he took his leave, but not before everyone tried to outshout and outdo the other in epic sagas.

So as we tried to settle down, listen to the Penguins, and the howling winds, the talk didn't die. And the more beer that was consumed (remember, we were docked and not going anywhere) the louder and more competitive the stories grew and then out of nowhere Scotty, who was visiting the head, scraped the door open in order to shout, "Hey Frank, who gives a F***!" and we all laughed so hard that I cried!

This is my life and these are the times that I'll always remember.