There’s an old adage, “The two best days of owning a boat are the day you buy it and the day you sell it.”
Gar loves having a boat, which is good since we’ve owned four with motors, and a couple of aluminum ones with me as rower and, naturally, the coxswain, “the person who calls out commands.” My specialty.
I’ve mostly hated the boats. They cost money, they’re temperamental, I’m not a water person, and it takes Gar forever to get ready.
Women are accused of taking a long time to primp for an outing, and it’s true. We have to shower, shampoo, blow dry and curl our locks and apply our makeup. Then we bulldoze through our closet, throwing most things on the floor because, honestly, we all feel we have nothing to wear. So, it does take a minute to get ourselves ready, but men are the same, only worse. It may not take men long to get ready when it’s dinner and a movie, but to take the boat out…I’ll just say, I’ve grown whiskers, gray ones.
With women, our makeup may vary slightly for daytim versus a night outing, darker eye shadow or deeper colored lipstick, but that’s it. For men, God love a duck, it’s complicated. For starters, men, generally, either are catch and release, which I think is really dumb, or they catch and keep, and if you like fish, that’s the only kind of man you want, ladies.
Then men decide what type fish they’re fishing for because, of course, it makes a difference. Are they using spinning reels and rods for smaller fish, which will also be a lighter line, or casting rods and baitcasting reels, with heavier line for larger fish? There’s also fly-fishing and saltwater, both specialized, but I’m only referring to fresh water today. Still, see how long this is taking?
Then there’s the bait dilemma; nightcrawlers, crickets or mealworms, plus bobbers, sinkers, spinners, swivels, stringers and lures, and holy mother of moses, there’s thousands, so keep a straight face; Googan Squad Hound, Arbogast Jitterbug, Booyah Prank, Supernato Beetle, Lunkerhunt Prop Turtle and Mattlures Upside Dead Stick. Did a 3 year-old name them? I’m guessing.
There’s creels and tackleboxes (at least 4) to hold the gear; pliers, knives (filet and a different one to clean or cut the line), a net, or nets because what red-blooded he-man could be caught with only one (we have six and thinking of it, my eye is starting to twitch). There’s also chest and hip waders, but let’s just not go there.
A few weeks ago, we took our new little bass boat to the lake and camped. One morning, Gar said he’d get things ready while I washed the breakfast dishes, made the bed and tidied the camper. As I worked, I’d glance out the window and Gar would be fiddling with his rods and reels and looking at his line. When I finished, he was still tinkering and I wondered what was taking so long. He looked in the back of the truck, then looked in a tacklebox’s drawers, peeked in a grocery bag, turned a container upside down, opened another tacklebox, sorted through his creels and studied an old gym bag’s contents. The thought occurred to me that I could have driven an hour to town, bought fish, brought some to camp, cooked them, and still be ready before my man. I didn’t offer my sage insights, no need to get divorced on a weekend.
Finally, I inquired about the holdup and he explained that he couldn’t find his swivels. I found some right away. No, not those. Those were too big. I found more. No, those were too small. After much grinding of teeth (mine) Gar said we’d go without them. Excellent.
Pushing from shore, I was at the helm, expertly motoring us in and out of coves while Gar cast over the side. Expertly is a relative term. I actually turned the boat and ran over Gar’s line, wrapping 20 feet in the prop, then retrieved and unwrapped it, displaying my magnificent outdoor skills. Gar frowned, thinking maybe the coxswain could have listened and not turned sharp in the first place, but he didn’t fuss. It’s darned hard to find a coxswain that’ll share a bed with a boat’s owner.
In 1519, Cortes’s men were complaining, threatening to revolt in mutiny. To eliminate a retreat, Cortes sent a powerful message to them, “Burn the boats.” That’s basically how I feel, so don’t tempt me.
