Spring hasn’t sprung yet. It’s still winter, and I’m still down south. I winterize my boat by sailing to lower latitudes and I like it that way. But I can’t help thinking about all of those boring “getting ready for spring” articles I’ve been seeing in boating magazines since I began reading them back in the ’50s. I’m already not looking forward to them.
I’ve got kayaks. I’ve got a 12-foot aluminum dinghy. I’ve got a 12-foot inflatable. I’ve got a 53-foot motorsailer. I’ve got a 20-foot Mako. I’ve got two sailboards. I’ve got some inner tubes. I’ve even got an 8-foot sailing dinghy that doesn’t sail very well after a tree fell on it and I tried to fix it. But, hey, it floats.
Nobody invited the rat. So it was good riddance. Maybe he thought he had a general invitation, like some of those people who crash important parties in Washington and L.A. But he didn’t. He probably knew he wasn’t invited and was just doing the rat thing.
But maybe he figured he was smarter than the average rat and smarter than the average person and that he’d just get a paw in the door, get a jump on the situation and be assured of his place at the table, closest to the best of the food. I don’t know what he figured, but he didn’t figure what happened.
The world doesn’t come to an end when you finally cast off the lines to head south. It might seem so because this time you’re taking them with you rather than leaving them at the dock that’s been your boat’s home for so many years.
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