...nothing noteworthy! Hubs did not seize, wheels did not fly, lights did not spark, axles did not break, hitches did not unhitch. Odd. Very, very odd.
But I'm ok with that!
I drove down to the coast for the sea trial and purchase of my new C-Dory 16 on this glorious, sunny day. In fact, the day was so pleasant that I found myself glancing at the open center cockpit fishing boats in the service yard. Must see an ophthalmologist about that wandering eye.
The dealer explained everything about the boat (that took about two minutes as the boat is beautifully simple) and then moved on to the engine. He described the maintenance schedule, normal running procedures and things to do before and after each use. He also gave me a Honda supplied starter cord and informed me that the 50 hp four stroke electronically injected engine could not be pull started. I stowed the cord. I asked him what I should do in the event that all the usual outboard problems - flooding, smoking, screaming, spitting fire - occurred.
He handed me his card and said "Call me. Don't try and fix anything. You can't. (who's been talking to him about me?) In any case, none of those things happen to these engines. Turn the key, they start and run. Bring it here or to another Honda service center every 100 hours and this will run forever."
I locked the cowling firmly in place and then put on a bead of Super Glue for good measure.
We hitched up the puppy to the Mighty GMC Behemoth and, much to my surprise, the trailer lights worked! Trailer lights never work for me - even with a new trailer and truck but this time they did. Well, ok, full disclosure - they worked after the dealer reinserted the adapter in a way that HE thought was better than mine.
Then, far more to my surprise, we headed out of the lot and towards the ramp. Now why should that surprise me? I am used to staying right where I start when towing anything with the Behemoth. It could barely move my old Precision 15 which only weighed a couple hundred pounds. It even struggles with my kayak trailer. With the C-Dory, there was no drama at all - we simply drove up the driveway (yes! uphill!) and down the road. Now I can't pin all the credit on the boat but I'm not sure what else helped. Karma maybe.
Arriving at the ramp, my skepticism meter pegged in the red. This "ramp" was a short piece of concrete wholly inadequate to the task of launching a boat. Therefore, I forestalled disaster by backing up and pulling forward no fewer than 37 times before I accidentally dipped the stern into the water and the boat floated free. I guess you don't need a long, deep ramp to launch a boat with a a six inch draft.
I also noted that the trailer tongue was so far from the water that it was going to be real difficult to slip on ramp slime to say nothing of actually getting my feet wet while launching. Something new to get used to, always something new.
I had been concerned about initial stability on such a small boat and, sure enough, as I stepped aboard, the boat definitely leaned over (it is a boat after all) right up until I put my other foot down - then it was stable as a rock.
The dealer joined me in the pilothouse (two big guys IN a pilothouse on a 16 foot boat with loads of room to spare - what kind of voodoo did the designer practice?) and I backed out and turned around in the channel with a minimum of fuss proving that 16 feet can be a pretty nice length. We headed down the creek (yes, I said "creek") and out towards the bigger creek. I don't sail much in creeks (who does?) so I was interested to see all of the pretty marsh grasses and sloughs. All manner of interesting things back there.
I opened up the throttle and asked how long it takes to get on plane. The dealer looked puzzled and replied "We're on plane now." Oh. I knew that.
The boat was certainly smooth running through the wavelets but much slower than I expected. Even at full throttle we were sort of poking along. Faster than a sailboat I suppose but we weren't going anywhere fast. I mentioned this and my copilot said I should look behind us to see if I could tell what the problem was. Visions of Stupid Tom Tricks flashed through my head. Had I left us tied to the dock? Was the trailer still attached? Was I towing a dredge? I reluctantly looked back and saw Fire Water! Yup, good old fire water as Spike calls it - a big smooth wake of white water flashing behind us. We were SMOKING down that river! The protection of the pilothouse and the quiet of the engine had totally disoriented me. I stuck my hand outside and felt the chill of our boat created wind. Nice and cozy in my shirtsleeves in the pilothouse of course
I paid a lot closer attention to what was in front of me once I realized just how fast we were going.
And what was in front of me was ... North Carolina. As much as I have come to appreciate the weather here, the state still hasn't grabbed my heart. The mountains are beautiful but most of the waterways are hidden from view - unless you happen to have a smokin' hot shallow draft pilothouse cruiser This area was gorgeous! Golden marsh grasses, low forest, swampy sloughs, shrimp boats tucked away in corners, sailboat marinas in the most improbable, wild locations - it was ALL nice and this was only ten minutes from the ramp. I can barely imagine what else is out there. In fact, I asked my copilot if there were similar creeks nearby and he said "Yeah, unfortunately."
Unfortunately?
"So many places have become built up like this (built up?) so now if you want to get into the pretty areas you have to go all the way across the river. That's a couple miles so it would take a few minutes in this boat."
He then lapsed into silence while thinking about the good old days. I looked around for the encroaching urban sprawl but only found a picturesque old shrimper tied up to a marsh dock.
All too soon, it was time to head back so I made a sweeping turn and then came to a stop to see how the boat would feel sitting still in the little wind waves going down the creek. At first, she rocked a bit but then settled down very nicely once the churning waters left by my turn moved away.
"She sure feels bigger than 16 feet," I commented. "When we were zipping down the river she felt solid and heavy and now when she should be rocking she just sits down nicely. The pilothouse seems too big for a 16 footer as well. We both fit comfortably with plenty of room to spare."
"Yeah, she's just about the biggest 16 foot boat you'll find," the dealer noted as he stepped out into the cockpit. He leaned over the gunwale feeling along the hull and said "Oh no - we've got a problem!"
I quickly looked for the lifejackets and flares and was relieved to find that there were still dry and safe on the shelf at West Marine.
"Oh this is terrible!" He then leapt to the other side and leaned over again. "Oh NO!"
I searched for paper, pen and bottle for my last will and testament.
"There's bubbles in the gelcoat!"
I caught myself right at the edge of what would have been a spectacular and spectacularly unnecessary swan dive off the stern. "Bubbles?"
"Oh this is just terrible. The hull must have been pressing on the trailer side boards and trapped water in there. Now it's all bubbled up." I thought he was going to cry. "I can fix this. I promise it will be good as new but I feel horrible about this. I've never had this happen before."
I told him it was no big deal and I would drop the boat off for repairs when it was time to do the first engine service at 20 hours. I put it out of my mind as we headed back but he just couldn't stop thinking about it. He kept saying how sorry he was and how he would make it all right. I finally stopped and leaned over the side to feel for myself. Sure enough - bubbles. Little bubbles. I probably never would have noticed them but they had ruined this guy's day. I like that in a dealer
We returned to the dock where I found just how easy it is to dock when you are sitting at cleat level. No acrobatics from helm, through the cockpit, around the shrouds and over the lifelines - just reach over and wrap the line around a cleat. That could take some of the drama out of docking.
We went to get the trailer and, before I backed it in, the disconsolate dealer attacked the side bunks with a vengeance, bending them back so they would never again touch the hull. He said he would replace them with goalposts and never use such boards again. I wondered how we were going to guide the boat back onto the trailer with them all bent back but he just said to back it down.
14 tries later I had the trailer kissing the water as he drove the boat on. I noticed right away that he was sideways a bit and was interested to see how he would straighten out. He just gave it some throttle and the boat came right on up straight as can be. It turns out the the bow catches in in between the middle bunks and automatically straightens up as it moves forward. The boat stopped about a foot short of the bow stopper but a couple of cranks on the winch pulled the boat up with no trouble at all. In fact, the trouble was lessened even further by the fact that the winch and bow snubber were far to the dry side of water. Apparently the fun times of slippery ramps and wet shins are behind me now.
The Behemouth pulled the boat out without any protest, we cinched the transom tiedowns and - are you ready for this? - we hit the road. That's how easy it was to get the boat road ready Looking at the boat on the trailer, I commented that she looked so much smaller from the outside. Small and easy to trailer.
"Yup, she's just about the smallest 16 footer you can find," commented the dealer - and he was right again.
When we got back to the shop, everyone came out to take turns tsk tsking and tut tutting at the gelcoat bubbles. Pictures were taken of the offensive blemish and promises passed around regarding their ultimate demise at the hands of the fiberglass repair gods. I wasn't worried.
A few shots of hub grease by none other than - a qualified mechanic (you didn't really think I would try that, did you?) and I was ready for the long, slow tow home. Finally, the Behemouth refused to cooperate and it became a quick trip home as we zipped along at 70 MPH until we came to the dreaded nightmare of the Interchanges of South Raleigh.
Years ago, a couple of civil engineers got together to discuss the best way of joining two highways just south of town. The younger one presented his plans to his mentor:
"I've drawn in a nice gently curving on-ramp that doesn't take much room and gives plenty of space for merging at highway speed."
"Fool!" the Elder Engineer exclaimed, boxing the young pup's ears. "That's no way to make a highway! Don't you see the danger?"
"Too much concrete?"
"We're engineers dammit! There's no such thing as too much concrete! The danger is sleepy drivers. They see that curve and they are liable to go right off it into the commodious grass median you have inconsiderately left all over the place!"
"What would you suggest master?"
"Watch and learn, grasshopper. Most people think that connecting two pieces of anything requires one connecting segment. They are wrong! It only requires an odd number of segments. You can just as easily connect them using three pieces of highway. Watch as I draw in a triple intertwined cloverleaf that does the same thing as your dangerous sloped entrance ramp."
"What about the sleepy drivers?"
"I'm not done yet! I'll employ the always enlivening left exit to keep them on their toes, shoot cars in from all directions at 70 MPH instead of 55 and then, as my personal legacy, make sure there are NO merge lanes. As frosting on this masterpiece, I will lay the merge-less lanes on top of a BRDIGE with no room left over for signs!"
"You are an engineering GOD! I am not worthy to paint line stripes on your demented roadways!"
"Too true. It will take five years to build this and ten to fix it. Our job security is assured. Never forget - job safety is job #1!"
Actually, I give the engineers too little credit. In the space of less than half a mile there are actually FIVE loops including two complete highway crosses with no acceleration lanes - all occurring on or under bridges. All to connect two pieces of road.
The Behemoth and C-Dory handled it in rush hour traffic with no problem whatsoever.
I got home much earlier than I expected so it was still light enough for Spike to see the boat when he came home from day care. As I opened the car door to let him out, the first words he said were "Cool fishing boat Dad!" That's worth the price of admission
I drove the boat to the storage yard still pondering how easy the whole day had gone. The boat handled well on the water and behind the Behemoth. Even the gas mileage wasn't bad at 14 MPG vs the 22 MPG I had recorded heading down to pick it up. Launching and retrieving were a snap once I lined up the trailer. This just might work out all right.
As I wound my way through the storage lot I saw that my assigned spot was fenced in by three other boats. I had really hoped for a slot I could drive straight through instead of having to monkey around with backing in the trailer from a tight aisle way. Oh well. I pulled up, spun the wheel and backed her right in
But I'm ok with that!
I drove down to the coast for the sea trial and purchase of my new C-Dory 16 on this glorious, sunny day. In fact, the day was so pleasant that I found myself glancing at the open center cockpit fishing boats in the service yard. Must see an ophthalmologist about that wandering eye.
The dealer explained everything about the boat (that took about two minutes as the boat is beautifully simple) and then moved on to the engine. He described the maintenance schedule, normal running procedures and things to do before and after each use. He also gave me a Honda supplied starter cord and informed me that the 50 hp four stroke electronically injected engine could not be pull started. I stowed the cord. I asked him what I should do in the event that all the usual outboard problems - flooding, smoking, screaming, spitting fire - occurred.
He handed me his card and said "Call me. Don't try and fix anything. You can't. (who's been talking to him about me?) In any case, none of those things happen to these engines. Turn the key, they start and run. Bring it here or to another Honda service center every 100 hours and this will run forever."
I locked the cowling firmly in place and then put on a bead of Super Glue for good measure.
We hitched up the puppy to the Mighty GMC Behemoth and, much to my surprise, the trailer lights worked! Trailer lights never work for me - even with a new trailer and truck but this time they did. Well, ok, full disclosure - they worked after the dealer reinserted the adapter in a way that HE thought was better than mine.
Then, far more to my surprise, we headed out of the lot and towards the ramp. Now why should that surprise me? I am used to staying right where I start when towing anything with the Behemoth. It could barely move my old Precision 15 which only weighed a couple hundred pounds. It even struggles with my kayak trailer. With the C-Dory, there was no drama at all - we simply drove up the driveway (yes! uphill!) and down the road. Now I can't pin all the credit on the boat but I'm not sure what else helped. Karma maybe.
Arriving at the ramp, my skepticism meter pegged in the red. This "ramp" was a short piece of concrete wholly inadequate to the task of launching a boat. Therefore, I forestalled disaster by backing up and pulling forward no fewer than 37 times before I accidentally dipped the stern into the water and the boat floated free. I guess you don't need a long, deep ramp to launch a boat with a a six inch draft.
I also noted that the trailer tongue was so far from the water that it was going to be real difficult to slip on ramp slime to say nothing of actually getting my feet wet while launching. Something new to get used to, always something new.
I had been concerned about initial stability on such a small boat and, sure enough, as I stepped aboard, the boat definitely leaned over (it is a boat after all) right up until I put my other foot down - then it was stable as a rock.
The dealer joined me in the pilothouse (two big guys IN a pilothouse on a 16 foot boat with loads of room to spare - what kind of voodoo did the designer practice?) and I backed out and turned around in the channel with a minimum of fuss proving that 16 feet can be a pretty nice length. We headed down the creek (yes, I said "creek") and out towards the bigger creek. I don't sail much in creeks (who does?) so I was interested to see all of the pretty marsh grasses and sloughs. All manner of interesting things back there.
I opened up the throttle and asked how long it takes to get on plane. The dealer looked puzzled and replied "We're on plane now." Oh. I knew that.
The boat was certainly smooth running through the wavelets but much slower than I expected. Even at full throttle we were sort of poking along. Faster than a sailboat I suppose but we weren't going anywhere fast. I mentioned this and my copilot said I should look behind us to see if I could tell what the problem was. Visions of Stupid Tom Tricks flashed through my head. Had I left us tied to the dock? Was the trailer still attached? Was I towing a dredge? I reluctantly looked back and saw Fire Water! Yup, good old fire water as Spike calls it - a big smooth wake of white water flashing behind us. We were SMOKING down that river! The protection of the pilothouse and the quiet of the engine had totally disoriented me. I stuck my hand outside and felt the chill of our boat created wind. Nice and cozy in my shirtsleeves in the pilothouse of course
I paid a lot closer attention to what was in front of me once I realized just how fast we were going.
And what was in front of me was ... North Carolina. As much as I have come to appreciate the weather here, the state still hasn't grabbed my heart. The mountains are beautiful but most of the waterways are hidden from view - unless you happen to have a smokin' hot shallow draft pilothouse cruiser This area was gorgeous! Golden marsh grasses, low forest, swampy sloughs, shrimp boats tucked away in corners, sailboat marinas in the most improbable, wild locations - it was ALL nice and this was only ten minutes from the ramp. I can barely imagine what else is out there. In fact, I asked my copilot if there were similar creeks nearby and he said "Yeah, unfortunately."
Unfortunately?
"So many places have become built up like this (built up?) so now if you want to get into the pretty areas you have to go all the way across the river. That's a couple miles so it would take a few minutes in this boat."
He then lapsed into silence while thinking about the good old days. I looked around for the encroaching urban sprawl but only found a picturesque old shrimper tied up to a marsh dock.
All too soon, it was time to head back so I made a sweeping turn and then came to a stop to see how the boat would feel sitting still in the little wind waves going down the creek. At first, she rocked a bit but then settled down very nicely once the churning waters left by my turn moved away.
"She sure feels bigger than 16 feet," I commented. "When we were zipping down the river she felt solid and heavy and now when she should be rocking she just sits down nicely. The pilothouse seems too big for a 16 footer as well. We both fit comfortably with plenty of room to spare."
"Yeah, she's just about the biggest 16 foot boat you'll find," the dealer noted as he stepped out into the cockpit. He leaned over the gunwale feeling along the hull and said "Oh no - we've got a problem!"
I quickly looked for the lifejackets and flares and was relieved to find that there were still dry and safe on the shelf at West Marine.
"Oh this is terrible!" He then leapt to the other side and leaned over again. "Oh NO!"
I searched for paper, pen and bottle for my last will and testament.
"There's bubbles in the gelcoat!"
I caught myself right at the edge of what would have been a spectacular and spectacularly unnecessary swan dive off the stern. "Bubbles?"
"Oh this is just terrible. The hull must have been pressing on the trailer side boards and trapped water in there. Now it's all bubbled up." I thought he was going to cry. "I can fix this. I promise it will be good as new but I feel horrible about this. I've never had this happen before."
I told him it was no big deal and I would drop the boat off for repairs when it was time to do the first engine service at 20 hours. I put it out of my mind as we headed back but he just couldn't stop thinking about it. He kept saying how sorry he was and how he would make it all right. I finally stopped and leaned over the side to feel for myself. Sure enough - bubbles. Little bubbles. I probably never would have noticed them but they had ruined this guy's day. I like that in a dealer
We returned to the dock where I found just how easy it is to dock when you are sitting at cleat level. No acrobatics from helm, through the cockpit, around the shrouds and over the lifelines - just reach over and wrap the line around a cleat. That could take some of the drama out of docking.
We went to get the trailer and, before I backed it in, the disconsolate dealer attacked the side bunks with a vengeance, bending them back so they would never again touch the hull. He said he would replace them with goalposts and never use such boards again. I wondered how we were going to guide the boat back onto the trailer with them all bent back but he just said to back it down.
14 tries later I had the trailer kissing the water as he drove the boat on. I noticed right away that he was sideways a bit and was interested to see how he would straighten out. He just gave it some throttle and the boat came right on up straight as can be. It turns out the the bow catches in in between the middle bunks and automatically straightens up as it moves forward. The boat stopped about a foot short of the bow stopper but a couple of cranks on the winch pulled the boat up with no trouble at all. In fact, the trouble was lessened even further by the fact that the winch and bow snubber were far to the dry side of water. Apparently the fun times of slippery ramps and wet shins are behind me now.
The Behemouth pulled the boat out without any protest, we cinched the transom tiedowns and - are you ready for this? - we hit the road. That's how easy it was to get the boat road ready Looking at the boat on the trailer, I commented that she looked so much smaller from the outside. Small and easy to trailer.
"Yup, she's just about the smallest 16 footer you can find," commented the dealer - and he was right again.
When we got back to the shop, everyone came out to take turns tsk tsking and tut tutting at the gelcoat bubbles. Pictures were taken of the offensive blemish and promises passed around regarding their ultimate demise at the hands of the fiberglass repair gods. I wasn't worried.
A few shots of hub grease by none other than - a qualified mechanic (you didn't really think I would try that, did you?) and I was ready for the long, slow tow home. Finally, the Behemouth refused to cooperate and it became a quick trip home as we zipped along at 70 MPH until we came to the dreaded nightmare of the Interchanges of South Raleigh.
Years ago, a couple of civil engineers got together to discuss the best way of joining two highways just south of town. The younger one presented his plans to his mentor:
"I've drawn in a nice gently curving on-ramp that doesn't take much room and gives plenty of space for merging at highway speed."
"Fool!" the Elder Engineer exclaimed, boxing the young pup's ears. "That's no way to make a highway! Don't you see the danger?"
"Too much concrete?"
"We're engineers dammit! There's no such thing as too much concrete! The danger is sleepy drivers. They see that curve and they are liable to go right off it into the commodious grass median you have inconsiderately left all over the place!"
"What would you suggest master?"
"Watch and learn, grasshopper. Most people think that connecting two pieces of anything requires one connecting segment. They are wrong! It only requires an odd number of segments. You can just as easily connect them using three pieces of highway. Watch as I draw in a triple intertwined cloverleaf that does the same thing as your dangerous sloped entrance ramp."
"What about the sleepy drivers?"
"I'm not done yet! I'll employ the always enlivening left exit to keep them on their toes, shoot cars in from all directions at 70 MPH instead of 55 and then, as my personal legacy, make sure there are NO merge lanes. As frosting on this masterpiece, I will lay the merge-less lanes on top of a BRDIGE with no room left over for signs!"
"You are an engineering GOD! I am not worthy to paint line stripes on your demented roadways!"
"Too true. It will take five years to build this and ten to fix it. Our job security is assured. Never forget - job safety is job #1!"
Actually, I give the engineers too little credit. In the space of less than half a mile there are actually FIVE loops including two complete highway crosses with no acceleration lanes - all occurring on or under bridges. All to connect two pieces of road.
The Behemoth and C-Dory handled it in rush hour traffic with no problem whatsoever.
I got home much earlier than I expected so it was still light enough for Spike to see the boat when he came home from day care. As I opened the car door to let him out, the first words he said were "Cool fishing boat Dad!" That's worth the price of admission
I drove the boat to the storage yard still pondering how easy the whole day had gone. The boat handled well on the water and behind the Behemoth. Even the gas mileage wasn't bad at 14 MPG vs the 22 MPG I had recorded heading down to pick it up. Launching and retrieving were a snap once I lined up the trailer. This just might work out all right.
As I wound my way through the storage lot I saw that my assigned spot was fenced in by three other boats. I had really hoped for a slot I could drive straight through instead of having to monkey around with backing in the trailer from a tight aisle way. Oh well. I pulled up, spun the wheel and backed her right in
