Tag Archives: Hoppy’s Landing

It ran great in the driveway…Part II

So, next day, Sunday, I woke up bright and early, checked ML’s Southpoint weather gadget  for the wind speed (before actually getting OUT of bed…no need to ruin a chance at turning over and going back to sleep). Saw that the wind was nice and low, got up and dressed to head out, and saw that it was super foggy. Heavy sigh.

So, I took a ride to Hoppy’s Landing and confirmed that it was pea-soup thick. Talked with Captain Sakwa for a bit, then headed to Mackatan General Store for a coffee (and a donut…I have the willpower of an ant). Saw a neighbor, talked some politics, and we went our separate ways.

And, lo and behold! By the time I finished my impromptu visiting, the fog had lifted and the wind was still low.

So, I decided to head out on the water.

I grabbed the plastic tub that has all my emergency gear in it, the crate with the life jackets, dropped it all into the boat. Then I threw a black door mat and a black indoor-outdoor carpet over all those signs and goop. My little boat looked like luxury, almost.

I checked that shift lever, too. It was still stiff, but moving. It was late by the time I got out, just a few minutes before 11 a.m., usually the time I’m coming back. But, all I needed to do today was get the thing in the water and make sure everything was working okay.

I launched….no drama. Phew. Even got some help from Todd the Harbormaster deputy.

I pulled out. Had a little trouble with the lever, but not much. I figured it was just something I needed to get used to.

Slowly me and my Little Water Buggy jugged out heading south past Hoppy’s Landing. The wind and surf were picking up a bit, but not much. I really just wanted to give the motor a little workout. But, oh, it was glorious. My little motor chugged along, pushing that old patched-up boat just as if we both knew what we were doing.

“Thank you, Jimmy,” I thought, remembering  my old friend who gave me the motor.

I only went south for about 5 or 6 minutes, then headed back. I just wanted to be able to crank the engine for a bit, make sure it had some power. Put it through its paces, so to speak.

But it’s the other direction I like puttering around in best, especially with mom. She likes buzzing around the mooring field and Bella Vista Island. So, I turned around and headed to the other side of the causeway. Because mom really wants to go.

I got through the causeway and noted that I didn’t get that shaky feeling at all this time around. Although I was nervous, it was the good kind of nervous, the kind that makes you pay attention better, not the kind that makes you mess up (I hope).

I buzzed around the mooring field, at no-wake speed. Got to the near side (south) of Bella Vista and felt the engine do a kooky little jump. A first I thought I’d hit a rock, but I was in the middle of the mooring field. No rocks there.

Then it happened again. Then it started spitting and coughing and pushing me forward and then almost dying out; the way an adolescent might try to dump you off the boat (or Hoppy).

I made a B-line for the causeway. By the time I got there, I thought it would stall for sure.

I got through, now with a very worried look on my face, waved to the same guy fishing.

The dock was full. Boats all around and one launching. I saw a small spot on the dock and decided to try for it. I figured when I got close enough, I’d just tell them I was having trouble and they’d help me. Then I reached back to put the motor in neutral and couldn’t move the lever. Shit.

Pulled back around and figured I could just shut if off if I had to. But then I was able to get it in neutral, but I kept cutting out too soon (oh, the incompetence!). Next thing I knew, the dock was full again. Then the motor conked out, for good this time.

I was near the rocks and close to the dock, so I was bummed, but not really stressed about it. The wind was still very light and the current was gentle, too, so I just kind of floated towards the rocks on the causeway. I used my pole to keep from hitting them. No damage to me, no damage to the boat, no damage to the rocks.

I knew that I was in a spot where I could just jump out and walk it to the shore or dock if I had to, so I was okay. No need to call my pals at TowBoatUs New Bedford (this time).

A couple walking on the causeway stopped and gave me some ideas on starting the motor, but it just wouldn’t take. He did notice, though, that the prop was not moving when I thought I had it in gear.

Then Todd showed up, with Tim the Harbormaster. Todd climbed down the rocks and into the boat. He managed to get the motor running, but it wouldn’t behave well enough to motor it onto the trailer. Tim stopped people from launching and cleared a spot on the dock for us, and we got close enough to tie up.

Then the two of them used the lines to pull it along the dock. Now, that’s a bit more complicated than it may sound. Hoppy’s Landing is a commercial dock, so you can’t just walk along with the line. There are two huge poles in the way, holding up the winch that pulls up the gangway, so, it’s a little tricky. But, I got the impression that these guys have done that before.

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We got the boat on the trailer, I got home, rinsed it off, took a shower, and decided it was still a really good day on the water.

Honest, I’m not just saying that. I was a bit surprised myself. Looked in the mirror and thought, “Gee why was that so satisfying? That was still fun.”

I guess the twenty minutes of a working motor beat out the rest of it.

It reminded me of that bumper sticker that says something like a bad day fishing is better than a good day at work.

Then, my old pal ML Baron posted it all on Facebook, saying, I “ran up against the rocks,” causing all kinds of visuals that made it much more dramatic than it was.

My sibs and mom thought I had motored head on into the rocks. Geesh.

No damage to me, do damage to the boat, no damage to the rocks. It was the gentlest of landings, truly.

We’ll get it fixed and I’ll get out there again, eventually. The question is: Will anyone go with me? I used to go alone because I liked to, now, I suspect I’ll be going alone because no one’s crazy enough to go with me: Except ML, of course.

Motor Guy has been working on, figured out which parts need replacing, and he’ll get it up and running in no time. And, at least i know the damned thing always runs great in the driveway.




It ran great in the driveway…Part I

So, it’s time for a boat blog (okay, way past the time). Of course, if you’re connected to me on Facebook, you’ve already gotten the snapshot version of Sunday’s adventure, courtesy of ML Baron.

My Little Water Buggy had a whole set of different issues this year.

Let’s start with last year. I had to get towed (again), because the motor died. After all the speculation about the ethanol gas and every other such thing, it turned out to be a much bigger problem. The stator needed to be replaced. That’s the thing that charges the battery (I think). It’s a conglomeration of magnets and other junkyard stuff, arranged just so, to spin and create a magnetic field or something. My Motor Guy explained it all to me, but that was last year. Anyway, it took weeks for the parts to get here, and then my Motor Guy had to practically assemble the whole thing inside the motor in the driveway anyway.

I watched him do that. I kept thinking, “Part? It looks like pieces.”

Then some other piece of something that cost a fortune had to be replaced, too. The powerpack, maybe? I just paid for it. I’ll be damned if I can remember it. Yeah, it was the powerpack. Would just get fried from all that super-duper power that would now be coming from the stator.

The upshot is: It cost me a fortune to get that 1985 motor working and then it was cold out, so I just wrapped it up for the winter, covered the boat, and dreamed about next year (which is now).

So, I uncovered the thing, rinsed it down and discovered that the patch we’d put in last year was not doing its job. The soft spot had gotten bigger. Turns out my friend used Bondo, which is bad because it has powder in it and absorbs water. Live and learn.

So, I called my carpenter guy (remember the floors?). I told him just to dig out the soft spot and patch it with plywood, then fiberglass it, and I’d paint it.

He started digging, and digging, and made a nice big hole in the deck. (This is the spot where I would normally post a picture, but, it appears that I did not take one….go figure.)

Then he stopped, and went home.

When I got him by phone he said that he reached his hand underneath and it was all wet under there and the whole deck needed to be replaced and that was beyond his ability to do and he sounded absolutely panicked that I would fall in or out or over or under or into a shark or something.

So, I started asking around. All I wanted was a patch, I told people. I just don’t want my foot to go through it. I don’t care what it looks like. This ain’t no billionaire’s yacht.

A couple of neighbors had a guy…or two. Everyone agreed that going pro was stupid. It would cost way more than the boat was worth. No problem, there. I don’t HAVE way more than the boat is worth. Really, at that point I wished I had just thrown tackle box over it and pretended it didn’t exist.

One neighbor did say he had a really good guy for that kind of work. I’d have to pick him up, though, he doesn’t drive (read: Probably lost his license because of DUI). And, don’t offer him a beer or anything alcoholic to drink until the work was done. AND, get a price for the job, not an hourly rate, or he’ll milk it.

But he’s a really good guy for that kind of work.

Welcome to my little island.

My brother had a guy. “He can do anything,” said my brother.

Okay, does he do boats?

“He can do anything.”

Okay, I’ll call him, but first…let me ask around a little more. (Read: I need to ask Hoppy.)

So, I saw Hoppy, explained the situation, and he said emphatically not to replace the whole deck. That’s crazy at this time of year. It’s a big job and expensive.

I just don’t want my foot to go through it, I said.

Y’know what you do, he said. Get an old street sign, a stop sign or something, and just screw it in. Then throw a big carpet over it.

“Ah, shit,” he said. “I’ll do it. Won’t cost ya nothin’.” (Except a 30-pack, or two, of course.)

Now, that’s what I’m talking about.

Of course, it took him awhile to get around to it. Also, my carpenter had removed some supports, so the window and seats and all that got all twisted up. We needed to fix that, too.

Hoppy, God bless him, did it. Before my vacation was completely over, too. I was sooooo excited that I’d be able to use the boat during my two-week publication break.

Of course, he didn’t use a street sign, he used a realtor’s sign (hoping they don’t read the blog).

So, I got in there to goop up around the edges and discovered…wait for it….another soft spot.

Geesh. Hoppy and I had stomped all over that boat and it seemed fine (mostly….that’s another story).

“I’m gonna need the other half of that sign,” I told him a day or so later. I said I could do it myself now that I saw what he did.

No, he said, you’ve got to use the right screws, and he said he really wanted to look at it himself.




Vacation almost over.

Then he did it. Used a “Slow Children” sign this time. On the bottom, someone wrote: “are easier to catch.”

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Then I gooped up the edges.

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I used that Boat Life Life Caulk. My boat is very familiar with that stuff. I love it. I used a tube and a half on the signs.

Then I needed to wash the boat. But, the remains of last winter’s wood were still piled behind the boat. That took three days to get rid of because it’s been super hot and humid and….great boat weather.

Then I washed the boat. it looked downright respectable.

Then I put that big old tub under the motor to start the engine. It started for about five seconds a couple of times, but just wouldn’t keep going.

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For some odd reason, the shift lever beckoned to me in an odd way. So I grabbed it and pulled, the pushed. I discovered that it wouldn’t move. I thought for sure that it was supposed to move even if the engine wasn’t running. That thing was stuck.

And the engine wouldn’t start.

And, the fuel line leaked.

So, I looked in the shed and discovered a fuel line that was clearly newer. That one leaked, too. When are we going to stop accepting this garbage that only works for two minutes? I would not have a problem with the global economy if we would just hunt around for the best stuff instead of the junkiest stuff.

So, I went and bought another fuel line: $39+ with tax.

Now, bear in mind this is all happening THIS July, last week, in 80-90 degree weather and super-oppressive humidity. So that means I’m working outside for 15 minutes and retreating to the air conditioning for 20.

Spoke to my Motor Guy and told him the story. This was Saturday afternoon. He said he’d swing by on Sunday if I didn’t call him to say I’d gotten it started.

I went back out to the driveway, hooked up the new fuel line, and got the motor started. YIPPEE! Right?

Then, for some odd reason, the shift lever beckoned to me, again.

The motor was running, the shift lever was in the “neutral” position, but it sure looked like the propeller was spinning. I do not remember that much oily water getting splashed all over the driveway…and me.

So, I called my Motor Guy, to fix the shift lever. He said he’d be by Sunday morning.

I went to my mother’s summer place and hung out with the relatives, ate dinner, watched the sun set. When I got home, a car was pulling out of my driveway. COOL! My Motor Guy decided to take a ride and he fixed the shift lever. It was kind of stiff, but that’s okay, it used to move so easily that I popped it in reverse sometimes when I was trying for neutral. (And you remember what it does when I pop it in neutral, right?)

So, now I’m ready to go. The idea of going out for the first time of the season on a Sunday in the middle of July is kind of scary. But I was ramped up and ready to go.

The good thing is, there’ll be lots of people around, right? So, how bad can it be?

Stay tuned for part II.

Visit www.Zorena.com for links to Beth David’s other writings; visit www.NeighbNews.com for this week’s Fairhaven Neighborhood News.

Little Water Buggy: Travels With Mom

First posted on 9/9/12

So, the second time I took out the boat, I took my mother for a putter around the cove. Now, I really had planned on using the boat at least two more times before taking mom, but, at 82, her schedule trumps. She tends to change her mind, so if she says she wants to go, we GO.

I found her a nice little powder-blue life jacket that she loved. She was ready to go.

So I told my sister to keep mom at the cottage while I tied up to the dock. I knew that if mom saw me have a hard time just launching the boat that she’d never get in it with me. She had never been on a private boat, except to sit on my brother’s. She never actually went OUT on one. The only boat she ever went anywhere on was the Nantucket Ferry. And that was a long time ago.

When I got to Hoppy’s Landing, Sandy and Joe were walking out to the floating dock to fish. I know them from the paper and around town. They are very nice people, friendly, and I was happy to see familiar faces there.

Turns out Joe was a charter boat captain. Who knew?

Anyway, he asked if I needed any help. I told him it was only my second time launching, so if I could throw the line to him that would be great.

I managed to get the boat off the trailer (with some difficulty still), and started to back it up to the dock, quickly realizing I needed to go forward. I mean, the stupid outboard-tiller-sitting-back thing is all backwards anyway. Trying to back up with that backwards setup is just ridiculous. So, I backed off the trailer and then went forward. Besides, that motor just LOVES to pop up in reverse. I really need to figure out how to use that clamp-down thing from INSIDE the boat.

This time, I wanted to tie up on the other side of the dock, the north side, so I could leave the ramp side open. I was going to call my sister after I tied up and she was going to drive my mother down. I didn’t want to hog the dock too long. They were only about 1/8 mile away, but still….for the guys who use that dock, that’s all the time they need to launch or load. They’re so fast at it (grrr….)

So, with Joe directing me, I managed to get the boat around to the other side of the dock. Unfortunately, I ended up facing the dock head on, not alongside it. Joe kept saying that was good. I thought I knew what he was going for but I didn’t know how to do it.

He grabbed the front of the boat and said, “that’s good, Beth.”

I, from behind, with Joe directly in front of my boat, said, “but I don’t know what to do now, Joe.”

He said to give it a little gas and turn the tiller whichever way (I’ll be damned if I can remember which way) and that would make the back end of the boat swivel around.

Okay, that’s what I thought he wanted.

So, I gave it just a tad of gas and turned the way he said, and the back end of the boat just swung around towards the dock while Joe held it by the rails in front.

How cool is that?

Then the front of the boat kind of started climbing up the dock a tad. Joe told me to cut the power.

Well, now, I told you…everything is backwards on a boat and this stuff doesn’t come as second nature to me.

Yup, you guessed it….I turned the throttle the wrong way. Gave it the gas….revved that baby right up… VROOM!

My Little Water Buggy just climbed right up that dock like the Great White in Jaws after Quint. Straight for Joe.

Picture it from the tiller: the bow of my little boat heading right up out of the water, just Joe’s head visible above it as he held onto the rails trying to push it back.

Oh, my God, I’m going to kill Joe. With Sandy right there watching the whole thing.

I turned the throttle back the other way, shaking, waiting for some admonition or laugh, or something.

“Looks like you’ve got a pretty good motor there, Beth,” said Joe (or some such similar thing).

Do I love this town or what?

So, I jumped out, all shaky legs and hands, moved the car, and called my sister.

Meanwhile, the wind started to pick up, bringing a little fog with it. My sister and mother got in the boat. Joe suggested I stay in the mooring field. I told him the plan was to go under the causeway, to the north side, where the water was calmer. He suggested I avoid the tight quarters of the causeway opening.

We headed out to sea, but it was too windy. My little boat was getting bounced around.

Now, the other thing is, the boat doesn’t have any stationary seats yet. I’m just not sure where I want to put them. I have two, but they are in the shed until I make the big decision.

Meanwhile, the plan had been to put a couple of beach chairs right up against the back console (which is what the gas and battery are under). Unfortunately, after we got the motor on, I realized I needed that whole back section to steer. So we put two chairs on the deck, but they could slide around a little. It wasn’t really rough enough for that, but the chairs aren’t really secure, either.

Anyway, I turned the boat around as soon as we could clear the rocks off Long Island and we headed under the causeway. I told my sister I’d just go slow. If it looked like I was going to hit the sides, she could just push us away. Remember, it’s just a 15-foot tri-hull, low in the water.

I got us under there just fine and it was so calm on that side. Of course, there were a bunch of kids jumping off the causeway, but they had the good sense to wait until I got through.

Maybe they could see I was new at this.

We puttered around Bella Vista Island. It was the first time my mother had seen it from that perspective. We’ve had the cottage since the 60s, but you really need a boat to see it up close from that angle. We remember when the house got built. We remember the island before this new owner started gutting it like a grapefruit. The house is still a sight to behold, though.

My sister and my mother had a cigarette as I puttered very slowly. We invoked the memory of my late Aunt Terry, who would’ve just loved the whole concept. We didn’t have any mimosas, though, kind of a necessity with an Aunt Terry memory.

Next time, we promised ourselves, we’ll have mimosas.

The fog started to roll in, but it was still light. Shoot, I’ve only lived on the island for 18 years. I’ve seen that fog roll so fast and thick you couldn’t see 10 feet within 10 seconds, but, for some reason, I thought, “no problem.” My sister was there, she could go to the front of the boat and direct me, right?

Except…when she was at the front of the boat, I couldn’t see.

Ah well, live and learn.

So, we started to approach the causeway. The fog was thick. Really thick. We puttered slowly, my sister and I trying not to sound nervous so mom wouldn’t be nervous.

“You have lights?” asked my sister.

Um…yeah, but they’re in the little plastic bin behind my legs under the console next to the gas tank and the battery.

Hmm….probably not a good place for them.

Do you remember which boats we passed on the way out?

We could see the causeway itself, but not the opening.

Oh, wait, there are the kids jumping off, there’s the fence….that’s the opening.


“Do you have a horn?” asked my sister.

Um….yeah, but it’s right next to the lights in the little plastic bin behind my legs under the console next to the gas tank and the battery.

Hey, wait, I have a whistle on my kayaking life jacket….oh, no, I gave that to my 10-year-old cousin for a hiking whistle (to scare away the bears).

Okay, no problem. Approach the causeway slowly, the kids on the bridge see us, are waiting. No one coming through on the other side. That’s good, I understand it’s kind of interesting if two boats  “commit” themselves to going under at the same time.

Don’t even think about that. Let the other guy hit reverse. My motor pops up when I use reverse. Don’t tell mom!

Okay, under the causeway, kids waited to jump. They waved, even said something, but we couldn’t understand them.

Man it was foggy.

Apparently, when we got through on the other side, Sandy & Joe clapped.

Okay, so now I needed to get back to the dock. Remember the first time? It took four tries.

Well, I’ll be honest, I don’t remember why or how I did it, but we went back to the north side. Maybe someone was using the other side. Maybe it just seemed easier. Mom got out of the boat and Joe and I moved the boat around the dock using the lines. I learned then that my $2, 15-foot lines from Ocean State weren’t long enough. Went back and bought more 25-foot lines.

I went to get the car, and my sister’s husband showed up just about then to greet us (and pick up mom and my sister).

When I got back to the dock, after mom had a few minutes to talk to Sandy and Joe, mom said, “You didn’t tell me this was only the second time you took the boat out!”

I didn’t hide that fact. I thought you knew.

Oh well.

Anyway, my brother-in-law helped me line up the boat with the trailer. I did a terrible job of getting it on the trailer, but my brother-in-law George helped and we got it done. I kept cutting the power too soon and the wind and tide just pushed that baby off kilter. Somehow, though, George managed to get it on there and make it look so easy.

So, the second time out and I still didn’t get the stupid thing on the trailer.

Mom told me later she’d pay to put seats in.

She wants to go out on it again.

So, how cool is that?


Little Water Buggy: Don’t Forget the Plug

First posted on 7, 9/3/12

So, after getting the boat in the yard, I needed to get all the stuff to get it in the water.

I sent an email to everyone I could think of asking for some of the stuff I needed: gas tank and hoses, anchor and line, battery, oar. Then the stuff I would need eventually, like a ladder, radio, and a couple of other things….can’t remember now.

Oh, right, a drain plug….don’t forget the plug.

Oh, the reasons I should write this stuff right away.

Anyway, I got a free gas tank, oar, anchor and line, and even a battery. Then, after I ran the boat a couple of times, one of my neighbors decided I would get blown up because the battery and the gas tank are in the same little cubby hole in the back, so he got me a box for the battery and even tied it down for me. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.

So, Frank and Scott, whose herculean efforts made it possible for this thing to go in the water in the first  place, gave me a plug off the wall. I had mentioned that I thought it was a 1″, but not sure. Frank just grabbed one off a hook in his garage and handed it to me. They both suggested, strongly, that I put the plug in from the inside, not the back. Harder to get to, but worth it. They said the churning of the water could loosen it. Seen in more than once, etc.

Just screw it in, they said. FIRST THING YOU SHOULD DO.

No problem. I can do THAT.

So, I trucked on over to my house next door and shoved the plug in through the back, just to make sure it fit. Well, it just went in and then out.

Hmmm….must be too small.

I walked back over, where they were eating outside in their screen house. Ah, neighbors….

It doesn’t fit, it’s too small.

You have to screw it in.

But it doesn’t fit.

Scott walked over with me and explained that it’s on a spring or some such thing…I don’t know. It goes in easily, then you turn it to the right and it opens up and tightens.


“I told you I don’t know ANYTHING,” I said.


Okay, now I had my gas tank all filled, with the oil mixed, and I lifted that baby into the boat. Hell, that was heavy. But I can do it.

I jumped in the boat, put the tank under that little console in the back, hooked up the hoses. I  had read all about how to do that earlier when one of my neighbors gave me a hose/pump, but no clamps. I ended up buying the whole set-up, it was just about the same price as buying the clamps separately and it was all connected. Much easier. Been back and forth to Benny’s and West Marine more times than I care to count.

Anyway, hooked it all up, then jumped in with the battery.

Slid the battery in the back and….whoa….Little Water Buggy, the whole thing tipped back right into the lawn.

Oh, my pittery-pattery little heart. My hands were shaking already and I didn’t even have the thing in the water yet.

I jumped out and took a look at it. What a sight to see that boat in the dirt, with the front of the trailer up in the air. (I should’ve taken a picture, but it just didn’t seem like a Kodak moment at the time.)

I walked back next door and said, “Hey, Frank. I think that trailer needs a little adjusting.”

God bless his little soul. He didn’t laugh at me, just walked over, took a look and said, “they all do that, you need to hook it up to the car first.”

Oh, good. Okay.

Now, meanwhile, he had told me that I would need a 2″ ball hitch, not the 1 7/8″ that everyone expected. Hell, how do I know that? I had U-haul put the tow package on the car and had an old ball hitch from the old car that my mechanic George B had put on. I looked at the thing and saw a “2” but had no way of knowing if that was 2 INCHES. Damn guys. Why can’t they just be clear about these things?

So, I just started asking everyone everything. One of my other neighbors assured me that the “2” meant 2 inches. George B came by and gave me a great lesson on my motor, especially warning me that it would pop up in reverse if I didn’t clamp it down. Apparently the pin to lock it down was gone…but, then someone else found it…it’s there, I just don’t know how to use it from INSIDE the boat. No matter, it’s better NOT to lock it down for going forward in case you hit a rock, that way the motor will pop up and get less damage…one little, itty bitty piece of information at a time.

Okay, so, hook the trailer up to the car and get back in. Screw in the plug, hook up the battery. Get a big bucket of water to put the engine in so I can start it in the driveway first. Don’t want to get out there and have it not start…EVERYONE said that.

Won’t start. Won’t start. Won’t start.


Hoses backwards.

Shoot…after reading all about how that big arrow tells you which way the gas flows TO the engine, I had hooked it up backwards.

Thank you, Frank.

Engine starts. Shut it off. Move the big bucket of water.

Are you sure you won’t go with me the first time, Frank? Scott?

You’ll be fine.

Of course I will.

Well, I threw the crate with the two “boat” life jackets in the car, but couldn’t find my C02 life vest (the kind that inflates). I figured I had left it at Frank & Scott’s after we had all gone on the kayaking trip (oh, another story to tell).

That day a big old cloud had come across the island (see post one: the launch), so I was just going to take the boat to Hoppy’s Landing and drive around and get the feel of the trailer, try to figure out how to back it up, etc.

I decided, though, to go by Frank & Scott’s first to see if they had my life jacket. I took the left, headed down Bluepoint, which is not paved. Oh, my pittery pattery heart again. Having not been around boats, or…realizing at that point…having never even been in a car that was hauling a boat, I was totally unprepared for the cacophony that came from the back. I looked in the mirror and the boat was still attached to the trailer, both jumping up and down on the road. I slowed to a crawl, found Scott at the garage, asked for my life jacket, which he had, then..

“Is it supposed to sound like that?”

Scott walked to the trailer, pulled it up and down and assured me it was secure and okay.

That wasn’t my question, exactly, but…I guess my question was answered.

“You sure you won’t come with me this first time?”

Guess not.

I turned towards Hoppy’s Landing, shaking like a leaf in autumn….oh…this was a good idea, right?

See post one, “Little Water Buggy: The Launch,” for what happens next.