New Boat

We finally bought a bigger boat and then it rained for two straight boat payments. While this might upset some people that have spent time and money finding the right vessel it was perfectly alright with me. Frankly, the boat scares me.
Perhaps “scare” is the wrong word. Petrified is a better way to describe of how I felt when we closed on the boat. The marina did their best to quell my fears by giving Laura and me a three minute tour of the entire boat and how it operates. My initial thought was “there are a lot of buttons”. I’m only familiar with two buttons---on and off. I was especially impressed with the thirty second description of the engine compartment. The marina representative discussed where the oil goes and where the generator is located. This was enough for me to start day dreaming about the boat payment book that arrived at the house a week before we picked up the boat. When I came back to reality he was talking about something called a “seacock”, which I can only assume to be a mythical sea creature that he was trying to warn us about.
It was time for the sea trial and we fired the boat up. I stood at the helm for the first time and looked out at the long bow. Then I passed out. When I finally woke up I immediately thought that I had been attacked by a seacock. Laura advised that I fainted and that we would need a competent captain to bring the boat home.
Enter Captain Tom Whalen.
The captain graciously accepted my request to assist in picking up the boat. And by assist I mean he did all the work. He did his best to show me how to navigate through the bay and said many nautical things like “Do you see that shoal over there?” and since I have no idea what a shoal is I said “Yes”. “Stay away from the shoal” he warned. And I will --once I Google shoal and find out what it is. We arrived at the mouth of my canal where, despite my pleas and brief attempt to hide in the engine compartment, I would have to dock.
Tom guided me while pulled up broadside to my bulkhead. “Turn the boat to a 45 degree angle against the dock” he instructed. I was unprepared for any math equations so I quickly slammed on the throttle jettisoning everyone on board into a black hole. The dock appeared to be closing in on us at an angle I’d estimate to be very bad. So the commodore commandeered the controls and set the stern (or the bow—whichever is the front) properly and then handed the controls back to me just in time for the wind to blow us into the dock perfectly. “Not to worry” Tom said. “All you need is some practice.” I thanked him and he left us with our new boat. Looking at the boat and thinking about all the responsibility it comes with reminded of how I felt when my first daughter was born. Laura and I brought her home from the hospital, gently lay her down in the cradle and said “now what?” The boat made me feel similarly overwhelmed so I did the same thing I did back then. I called my mommy. She assured me I was a nice boy but she couldn’t come over and take care of the boat and that a shoal is a sandbar.
We took the boat out to practice docking and chose a rainy Monday to ensure we would be the only ones around. The tricky thing about docking in a slip is getting used to how the boat reacts while using gear shifters. When backing in, if you want the boat to move to the right (STARBOARD) you use the left (PORT) gear, and then your wife (LAURA) can tell you that you’ve hit the pole (POLE). It’s really very simple when you stop and think about it. However, I cannot think when I’m docking and I move the gears back and forth rapidly like a two year old on a Tonka Toy. This has a unique reaction on the boat- I believe seaman called it “crashing”.
After several attempts I was able to dock in between the poles. I’m quite sure I will not be able to recreate the feat so we’ll leave the boat in the slip for the remainder of the payments. I hope the seacocks don’t get it.