I got used to go bags and bug-out bags while I was in the Army and was transferred to Germany. My wife and baby daughter came along as dependents. I had a go bag stowed in our car so I could respond to an alert, regardless of where I was. It included a set of field gear, underwear, three pairs of socks and my field boots, plus cigarettes, candy and coffee. It was the 1950s, the height of the Cold War.
I recall going sailing in my friend John's new 23-foot sailboat. The boat had been hurriedly berthed on a mooring, using badly worn three-strand nylon line. We hadn't had the time to replace the line. In fact, we hadn't properly set up the anchoring system or the jiffy reefing system. It was the first available chance to sail her and we were anxious to try her out.
I remember hearing about a couple in their late 50s to mid-60s who decided to follow their dream while they still could. They sold their home, put some of their more precious and sentimental belongings in storage, and bought a boat.
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