2013-08-15 / Lifestyles

Well named rig

Lois A. Corcoran

The love affair between my better half and his boat grew by leagues and bows. He even treasured its grimy life ring with the letters B.S. on it.

“Perfect!” Dan exclaimed. “Those are the initials for Blue Streak,” the name of our rig.

Over the summer, he repaired this and replaced that and showed me each improvement with great enthusiasm.

“We’ll need to buy a motor for this rig,” he said, “but that won’t be for quite some time.” Thank heaven, I thought as I eyed our dwindling bank account.

As it turned out, “quite some time” occurred sooner than expected. Dan called one day to say that he found the perfect motor. It was attached to a boat, which was attached to a trailer, and the whole shebang cost a few thou.

“Do you mind if I buy it?” he asked. Why he asked, I don’t know, since he’d already made the transaction. Thus our savings took another suicide plunge.

Having run out of space in our back yard, he stored his new purchase at our summer shack.

“Where are you going to sleep tonight?” I asked. “Your dream boat is here and your dream motor is in Stonington.”

A look of indecision crossed Dan’s face. “Torn between two lovers,” he said.

“That’s flattering,” I replied. “I’m not one of them.”

Five months after her purchase, the Blue Streak was ready for her maiden voyage. Make that “matron,” given that she already had her share of owners.

Giddy with excitement, Dan filled out the launch permit, tore off the required tab, and placed it on the truck’s dashboard. In large letters it read “Good luck”. Somehow, I found that rather unsettling.

We forgot some wine to christen our boat, but perhaps it’s just as well. Captain Corky needed his wits about him.

At first his cherished Merc 50 refused to start. A fair amount of tinkering took place before it finally roared to life. Once we got out to sea, Dan shut it off to test the back-up motor, which failed to understand its purpose in life.

My better half then turned to the main motor, which wouldn’t start either. After a few anxious moments, he coaxed it to life and we headed home.

He spent the evening tinkering with both motors. Trust me when I say that the “Blue Streak” is well named.

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