Part One - Part Two

I’ve been getting ready for another road trip.  Make that, “boat trip.” One that starts out and finishes by road.  Either way, I am constantly reminded of a very old truth.  Nothing lasts quite so long, and tenaciously, as a TEMPORARY fix.  Except a permanent fix, of course.

A permanent fix that is placed at the very tip top of a carefully re-prioritized TODO list will live that way into eternity.  I’ve got decades-old tablets, note cards, scratch paper, what have you, with permanent fixes marked with stars, exclamation points, underlines, circled in red.  There they sit.

It’s been like that a lot, lately.

Maybe it’s alright to follow the maxim, “If you don’t have time to do it right, you will most certainly have to make time to do it over.”  And, over.  So, anyhow, I’ve been scurrying through the ancient ritual.  You know.  The ritual that requires you to fix stuff before embarking upon a 500 mile drive.  The same stuff that has worked just fine in the un-fixed mode for at least the past ten, 50-mile trips.  That stuff.

You probably know somebody like that.

The Big Deal before me is attendance at the Port Townsend (Washington State) Pocket Yacht Palooza.  It’s a one-day affair that will take about 4 days to get to.  About 3 months to get ready for.  And, if I play my cards right; it’ll take about a half ‘a week to get back home from.  The palooza is this giant show and tell affair.  People come and display their sailing, rowing, and “traditionally” motoring prides and joys on their trailers and in the water.  And, this year for the first time, there will be a four-day, three-night cruise around Marrowstone Island for as many of the participants and hull thumpers as care to go.  It’s been almost three weeks since yours truly got home from the wilds of South Texas (Texas 200) and summer’s a wastin’.  So, I’ve been fixing stuff.

Lady Bug got the nod for this trip.  In some ways, she’s the last boat standing.  Old Salt and Shenanigan got given away this spring.  Rough Neck just got sold.  I’ve been downsizing.  Sort of.  That’s a story for later.

Lady Bug’s trailer made it over essentially the same route in March, just fine.  Her trailer went almost a thousand miles, with nary a whimper.  So, you’ll completely understand why I found it imperative to paint the trailer, overhaul the wiring, get even-bigger tires, and replace the axle for this trip.  Of course, you’ll understand.

Oddly enough, some of that stuff has been ensconced on annual repair lists for years and years.  Except, just about everything got checked off in a temporary fashion.  For example.

That brand new 3,500 pound capacity axle.  And, those tires.

The u-bolts were too short that came with it.  I couldn’t quite stop what ever else I was doing to go to the Big City and have replacements manufactured.  That might have taken at least THREE HOURS.  Instead, I worked for the better part of two days to dismantle the leaf springs, completely screw up the mounts for the fenders, and fight the too-short ones into place, and then get the nuts welded on to keep me from lying awake nights.  See?

Temporary fixes rule!

This new set of mondo rubber was already mounted on Strumpet’s trailer - that boat isn’t going anyplace real soon.  I seem to have pulled a lot of the hard-won hatches and stuff out of that poor girl as the opening salvo of a completely new direction for that project.  And, wouldn’t ya know it?  Those wheels were kinda’ rusty.  So, I wiped the grease from a leaking wheel bearing seal on that trailer from those wheels, and painted ‘em while still mounted on Lady Bug’s trailer.  Another temporary fix that could easily last until Jeb Bush’s grandkids are in the White House.

Actually, that paint will likely shed itself sooner than that.  You just can’t paint axle grease with any sense of permanence.

Then, another permanent fix got shoved all the way to the tiptop tip of the mountain.  I’ve been thinking how completely sublime it could be to have a motor well in Lady Bug’s cockpit floor.  I’ve been ruminating on this one for nigh on to ten years.  So.

It made perfect sense that when I decided to finally do that deed a few weeks back, I’d do the whole thing completely on-the-fly.  Why bother with drop cloths, or masking, or clean-as-you-go?  Not when you can just call this one an experiment, and plan to do the “final version” later.

Yeah, right.

My experiment seems to be modestly successful.  So far.  Other than the fact that I “saved time” by glassing the interior walls of the hole while the outboard was mounted in it.  Gloppy slices of gooey, glumphy ‘pox & cloth have a way of leaving sharp spikes and razor edges behind, when you do it that way.  But, you see.

I’ll probably change it when I get home, anyhow.  Now, I’m certain that you know somebody like that.

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