Breakdown, Breakdown…

Well, we’ve had some happy hours here at the cottage. And a few unhappy hours too. Just the usual dozen garden variety of personalities in a 4 bedroom cottage that is 107 years old and without any soundproofing or much in the way of privacy.

My cousins are here as is my brother and for old times sake I decided to see if we could get the outboard going seeing as everyone has become afraid of the launch (Cloud Nine). The launch has a reputation of being high upon a pedestal and for obvious reasons, it has enormous sentimental value as well as being a gorgeous wooden boat. Not exactly an antique, but priceless nevertheless, unless you have a cheque book and then, well, I don’t know how much it would cost. A bit I suppose.

Anyway, my father has fixed the gearshift and checked out the rot in the transom (Back part of the boat where the motor is—a rather important part, especially in a wooden boat that has sunk once before). Naturally, the ‘it’s fine, take it for a spin’ suggestion is coupled with ‘bring your lifejacket and keep an eye on shore’. Reassuring. But the boat is fine.

So, back to my story about the outboard. My father graciously offered assistance in getting the boat in the water (which involved pulling Cloud Nine out of the slip and anchoring it for a bit) and getting the outboard engine ready. (Of which my cousin said, well, I think it might have had some problems when I put it away a few years ago, but I’m not sure.) And of course, in my life EVERYTHING mechanical ALWAYS comes with that little disclaimer which sucks hours out of my life in terms of repairs and tinkering and me generally feeling like I really don’t know what I am doing, but know just enough to realize just how confused I really am.

Like when we got the outboard in the water and I couldn’t recall how to get it in gear. Not on the bar thingy, but a lever. Right. Well, I’ve looked dumb before, it isn’t new to me. And I really wanted the outboard to go bombing around in. I figured if it was in the water, people would go out and do fun stuff. I don’t think anyone is afraid of a tinboat with a 9 1/2 horsepower motor. I mean, the thing isn’t even painted all the same colour.

Anyway, dad took it for a short spin, I took it for a short spin and we decided that there was air coming in through the gas line. So, we found a spot to pull it ashore since the dock and boathouse is rather full. I came down later and borrowed dad’s gas line from his outboard on his sailboat and tried it on the outboard. Well, after finally figuring out where the engine lowering lever was and how to work it, I got her going and even remembered all the little nuances. But it kept stalling, even with the new gas line. So then I thought, well it hasn’t been used in awhile, so maybe it just needs to be opened up a bit out in the bay. On the river you can’t go more than 9km/hr, which really isn’t opening up even a little 9 ½ horsepowered outboard. Hell, I can probably swim that fast. (Okay, okay for like a few feet and then I’d be exhausted from swimming that fast.)

Anyway, as soon as it got going, it would putter out. So, I kept starting it and going and it kept stalling. Well by the time I got close to the bay—finally—I was realizing that it didn’t really need a run, it needed professional, experienced help and I wasn’t it. And that that kind of help was upstream, standing on the dock.

So, I began the tentative start and stall journey or trying to turn it around and get going back. Well, that was okay, until my arms now tired from pulling the cord, pulled the freaking cord right out! Nuts! Thank goodness I put paddles in the boat like dad suggested!

Only problem was that the wind had picked up so I was fighting a large wind in a heavy tin boat and going against the current. Paddle as I might, I was not going anywhere! I looking frantically towards the boathouse still in sight. Please, notice that I am paddling. Please come and get me in something with a motor! I’m even on the wrong side of the river!

Oh yes, I forgot about the people on their nice balcony on their nice little boathouse—I was only admiring it this morning during our canoe ride—and their lovely audience. Like I need an audience while being a moron. Well, not a moron, but a very frustrated feeling nincompoop.

I had a game plan in mind since paddling back was pretty much out of the question. So, I was going to somehow get from where I was to a friend’s boathouse—upstream from my audience—and borrow their canoe to go back and get help.

So after wading in the shallows, pulling the boat and almost immediately remembering to pull the engine up, they started asking if I had a problem. being really windy now, I could hardly heard anything and was feeling frustration mount and could not really trust my voice. So, I stated that I had more than one problem. But they already knew all my problems and began to list them off for me. (Thanks, by the way. You had the right idea, but were off on a few of them.)

And as helpful as they were (they even offered to tow me) along comes my dad in the launch (YAY!) to rescue me. Spying the wooden boat, they abruptly vanish. Okay. Intimidated much? Yes, we look like old Muskoka. And I guess grandma is. But the rest of us, not really. We ain’t rich, honey. We don’t have big, fancy jobs in Toronto and we never eat lobster unless we go to Red Lobster. Which, by the way, we don’t.

So, dad gets me tied up and guess what, the clouds open up and downpour. Wearing a white shirt of course. Drenched by the time we get back.

And then I get a little commentary on basically what I had already discovered on my own. Doh. So, put the boats away and was ready to give up for the year, but dad who is a big proponent of getting back up on the horse discovered several problems within a short period of time. No problem is out of reach. It is fixable. So, basically: need parts. Lots of ‘em.

So, drenched and feeling disheartened, went up to the cottage where lots of teasing ensued. I think I did okay. I told them I swam all the way back with the painter (front line on the boat) between my teeth, against the wind and current in the pouring rain. Unfortunately, the seat of my shorts were not wet, so they didn’t believe me. Probably also because my dad had come up for the key for Cloud Nine previous to that.

So, long story short…broke another mechanical item. Anything left that I haven’t done in?

The Resounding Theme in My Life

I think that if there is a resounding theme in my life, it seems to be that if there is a vehicle or other some sort of motorized contraption used for transportation, I can kill it. (Also automatic cameras and computers.) I mean that I seem to have some sort of touch that allows the contraptions to let go of the final thread that their ability to run properly is dangling from, not that I go out with the intention of snipping the poor little threads. I just do.

I drove my dad’s van down to visit a cousin yesterday. It was a four hour drive one way and I was thinking, ‘oh, no. Don’t break down. I have my AMA card, but how am I going to get back to point A if I blow the tranny?’ For some reason, I worried about the tranny. I suppose because those vans are known for blowing them and it has gone over 250,000km and evidently occasionally has troubles going into reverse. So, basically, I figured that I was going to do in the van. But I didn’t. Thank God!

So then today, Dad was giving me a lesson on how to drive the boat. (A wooden gorgeous, ’73 Greavette.) Getting it out of the slip, I seemed to have a bit of trouble getting it into reverse, but we chalked it up to me just being a beginner and not being ‘positive’ enough in my movements with the stick. (Up is neutral, forward are various speeds of forward and backwards on the stick is, reverse.) Anyway, we get to the ice cream place and I am working on docking it. Dad jumps onto the dock to catch the boat and tells me to put it in neutral, having had it in reverse to slow us and pretty much docking the puppy. I put the stick up into neutral. But, hang on. I seem to be moving away from the dock. That is strange.

Nope, broke the stick. Moves freely up, down, all over the place and here I am going backwards all over the place and my dad, almighty teacher and fixer is on the dock.

Let me tell you, those wooden boats are not light. Especially not when you are paddling them against the current, or even with it for that fact.

Then, of course, we get the call that Grandma’s tire is in (finally) for her car. So, great. We are forever away (by car), in a boat that is stuck in reverse. (Did I mention that I had also worried about taking out the boat? Yeah, really wasn’t so keen on it. It’s like I could feel it coming.)

So, we went for ice cream.

And dad managed to jimmy the stick into working. Or at least, getting us to go forwards to get home.

But, let me tell you. I learned a thing about momentum and physics when we parked back in the slip in the boathouse. When you don’t have reverse, it is really hard to stop the boat before it hits the end of the slip. Trust me. I tried. Thank god the boat looks better than the wooden slip (and that I wasn’t the one driving. Although, my dad probably would have been strong enough to stop the boat, whereas me…well…not so much).

So, maybe my vehicle curse will wane again for a little longer. (Oh, please!)