Almost 100% of the pictures of people on boats contain smiles. There is generally sunshine, blue waters, beaches, refreshing drinks, lovely tanned skin...and smiles on everyone's face. This would lead the moderately intelligent person to easily conclude that boating is FUN, and might even persuade the weaker-willed persona to think "Hmmm...maybe I should get a boat." Well dear reader, you might take a few moments to peruse the following recollections from the past 11 years of my boating career, and see if you might establish a new perspective. Nonboaters will likely consider this a warning...boaters will likely just nod and smile knowingly.
Our first boat treated us pretty well, and most of the paranoia and problems associated with it were created in my own fertile mind. I am always considering the "worst case scenario," but, fortunately, never really had to deal with it...until we bought our Fountain. Michelle dubbed the "The Big Red Meanie" on the first weekend we owned it, and it lived up to its moniker over and over again, leaving me scarred physically and mentally...but also as a FAR more capable boater. After picking her up from Raymond's Fountain at Lake of the Ozarks, we immediately had what we now consider to be...an ADVENTURE. In Mike and Michelle parlance, ADVENTURE is usually used with the slightest of negative connotation...for good reason. Here's
STORY #1:
Well...I towed the Fountain away from Raymonds, whilst trying to ignore the tears in my wife's eyes from the "loss" of her beloved Powerquest, and headed for the boat launch on the west side of the lake that was right next to the resort we were staying. On the way, we stopped for lunch...and the sky opened up in a manner that I have seldom seen outside of the Ozark region. It freakin' POURED. But, by the time we finished eating, the sun was shining again. However, the road was now wet, I was towing a larger boat AND it turned out that the brakes on the trailer did not work. Oh...and then there was the road. I mentioned the wetness...but the hilliness and curviness were such that Michelle actually laughed out loud at how absurd this particular segment of pavement was. By the time I hit the Shawnee Bend launch ramp, there were impressions from my fingers in the metal of the steering wheel.
After a 5 minute timeout to lower my heartrate, it was time to launch. No problem. Michelle backed the truck and trailer up and dropped me in, then parked the rig and I did a touch-and-go to pick her up...as there are no piers at this ramp. We idled out of the small bay onto the main channel and got on plane...by this time, even Michelle was smiling. Suddenly, the sky turned...ugly. It was the Black Wall of Death...and it was on us NOW. The deluge was instant...we were completely soaked and desparately scanning the shoreline for our resort. We slowed to an idle, and finally caught sight of the resort and...COVERED BOAT SLIPS! I pulled into the nearest slip as far as I could and we tied off...the rain was thundering off the aluminum roof so hard we could barely talk to eachother. Looking to the stern of the boat, I saw the bilge pumps working furiously...which was cause for instant concern. What if a hose came off? What if the plug fell out? OH MY GOD THE BOAT IS GONNA SINK. Also, we had pulled into a 30-foot slip with a 35 foot boat...so not only was it still raining on our split engine hatches, but all the water that was hitting the roof and running down was pouring onto that same area. CRAP. I fired it up and executed my very first back-in dock....and the bilges kept on pumping...there was a TON of water in the engine compartment...I made the decision that we needed to get back on the trailer....NOW. Panic was setting in....even my normally composed wife was freaking out. We grabbed the lines, jumped in the boat, and went back out into the deluge. On the way to the ramp, I tried to get up on plane, and the boat seemed so full of water it would not come over. I was blinded by the rain and could BARELY see the bow of the boat...I'm sure the guy driving the pontoon boat that I missed by 20 feet was NOT happy, but I didn't care. We got back to the cove, I gave Michelle the keys to the truck, dropped her off, and she flawlessly backed the trailer down. I put the bow up, tied it off, and collapsed to the ground...just as the rain quit. The bilge pumps ran for 20 minutes as the boat sat on the trailer.
Fun, right? We had owned the boat for about 2 hours, and, while hindsight would reveal that we probably would have been just fine...we were still pretty certain that we were going to sink! The next day, our first full one as owners of the red hot sommer, we entered a poker run, and were having a GREAT time...until this happened:
STORY #2
We went to Big Dick's. Ate lunch. Did the requisite Minnow Shot. And started back up lake. We were 11 miles from our condo...and I lost the starboard motor. Just quit. At 50 mph or so. I came to a stop and tried to restart it. With futility. As we idled the 11 miles back, I called Raymonds and told them the problem and fumed to the point where Michelle wanted to jump out and just swim back rather than be near me. There are no pictures of this time.
We got back, put the boat back on the trailer Saturday night, and took it to Raymonds, clinging to the promise that the mechanics would look at it as soon as they got in on Sunday (which meant...after church).
For the record, being boatless at LOTO SUCKS A$$. Don't do it. We killed the day by going over to Ha Ha Tonka, the burned out mansion on the lake, and then, while we were eating lunch at Shooters, we got the call that the boat was done. An ignition module had burned out. Come and get it.
We picked up our baby and took it over to Shady Gators for a cocktail or seven, then, as the sun was starting to set, I dropped Michelle back at Raymond's to drive the truck and trailer back to the condo while I took the boat. It was a PERFECT evening, and I was in my own private heaven as I was driving back. I had purchased a map of the Lake, and because everything looks the same down there, I had it out on the dash for consulting purposes. A blast up to 70mph blew the map to the floor, I slowed up, and bent down to get it...just as the boat hit a wave. The throttles hit me right in the eye. I had been punched in the face by my boat. When I returned to the dock, Michelle was waiting for me and I had to explain why my eye was swollen.
And that's how it got the name BIG RED MEANIE. Natch.
Oh...and we are just getting started...some more fun on the water...
STORY #3
I was SO proud to bring the red boat home, and after an extremely thorough cleaning, she was looking GOOD, and we took her out to her berth in Hammond Marina. The T-dock crew quickly took notice of our new toy, and everybody dug it...I was a proud man. The project for the day, however, was to set up the Hydrohoist to accomodate the new and bigger hull. This meant adjusting the bunks to the ascribed places, not dropping the hardware OR the tools in the lake, and even moving the hoist back with regard to its position on the dock to keep the beak from sticking out over the main walkway...it was a 35 foot slip and a 35 foot boat, so I had to be right on.
A couple of hours in the hot sun, and the hoist was positioned correctly, the bunks aligned, and we were ready to test it. I pulled the boat around the dock and into my slip, and raised it out of the water. SUCCESS! I congratulated myself on a job well done, for everything looked great...with the exception of the fact that the bow was still pointed at the sky a bit, something that would be rectified by moving the boat forward and balancing out the weight on the pontoons. At that moment, my mother-in-law showed up and asked if we'd like to come by their boat for some lunch, so we dropped our tools and went a couple docks over to their Sea Ray.
About an hour later, my phone rings, and its the Candyman...Dan Vasta...saying "Hey...that thing looks great...let's take it for a ride!" So, we roll back over to our dock, I drop the boat back down in the water, and raise the hatches to give it the pre-run check. What do I see, but a bunch of water in the bilge. Crap. Granted...it's not a TON of water, but there's definately water in there that wasn't there before. So, I climb in the bilge to see if I've got a split hose or something. I then notice the water has a rainbow sheen to it...dip my finger in...and give it a sniff....
Well...what I thought was water was much, much worse. It was gas. Fresh gas. Probably 5 gallons worth. Yikes. I shut the batteries off and started throwing buckets of water in the bilge to dilute it...and this is where my story has a lucky moment...the automatic bilge pumps kicked on and I did not blow up. Whew. I called Dan and told him I had a HUGE problem, and after I explained, he rallied the troops from T-dock and they came to the rescue. We towed the boat with a dinghy over to the launch ramp (a tail-between-the-legs moment if I've ever had one!), and I ran to get my truck and trailer. In order to keep the bow high and prevent the gas from moving forward, I inverted the 6-inch drop on my trailer hitch, GENTLY put the boat on the trailer, and pulled it out...all the way to the back of the huge parking lot in Hammond. At this point, the hero of the day stepped in. Mike Lucina took charge and almost instantly found the problem...someone had removed/replaced the sending units on top of the gas tanks and stripped out one of the threaded holes on top of the port tank...replacing the machine screw with a tin screw, which didn't provide enough torque to seal the gasket on top of the tank. Add to that the fact that I had just filled the boat to the brim before putting it in the water AND the fact that it had just spent an hour sitting at a protracted angle to the stern...it was puking gas all over. We "discreetly" pulled the drain plug and let the gas pour into the lot...SHHHHHH!!!!....then Mike rigged up a new setup involving an inverted screw and washer...and it was done. I left the boat on the trailer that night with the hatches up and cleaned the HELL out of it the next day to get rid of any gas smell.
I had owned the boat for two weeks and had almost sunk it and almost blown it up. Awesome.
That's it for the time being...but there's MUCH more fun to tell...trust me!
