Saga of the Annie B

The year after we bought our house in Florida, we decided life would be incomplete without a boat. After all, we're only a block from a boat ramp, and almost everyone on our street has a boat and trailer in the driveway.  

Neither of us had ever piloted a boat before. But we bought a 16-foot "vessel" from a neighbor, who had bought it from somebody, who had bought it from somebody. The boat was manufactured in 1987 by a company that was out of business, but the boat seemed seaworthy when we took a test drive.

We loved driving the "Annie B," as we named her, out into Pine Island Sound and then several miles south to Safety Harbor for lunch. Or, on days when we were busy, we would take her out for a much shorter outing, which we called "around the block." This route took us from our slip through Jug Creek and out to the Number 8 marker in Pine Island Sound. From there, we turned right into Charlotte Harbor, turned right again into Jug Creek and, at "no-wake" speed, eased our way back home.

The Annie B behaved herself most of the time, but every year or so, something major would happen to the old inboard/outboard engine, and we would have to phone our boat mechanic. The old saying that "a boat is a hole in the water into which you pour money" turned out to be apt on those occasions.

Although the Annie B seemed to be in top mechanical condition this past summer, and she even sported a new Bimini top to keep the sun off and some new upholstery to replace what had fallen apart, all was not well in the engine compartment. One day, when Ed took her out for some exercise, she overheated. He turned her off. She started up again, but refused to budge. Some fishermen who happened by towed the disabled Annie B to our dock, and Ed immediately called the mechanic to come and have a look.

Repairs this time, he told us, might cost as much as $1,200. Oh, dear. We had paid only $3,000 for her in the first place.

Ed and I concluded that, since we were really too busy to use the boat much, putting out that kind of money was ridiculous, and we should just try to sell her as-is and get out of the boat business. When advertising didn't result in any offers, however, we contemplated giving her to the Salvation Army or the Goodwill, if, in fact, either would want an aging/aged watercraft with a past.

One day, as we were driving over one of the many bridges around here, I said "How does it make you feel when you realize you're never going out to the Number 8 marker again?"

Ed said, "Sad."

"Me, too," I said.

When we returned home, Ed took the for-sale signs off the boat and called our mechanic.