You’ll recall that during my 42-mile solo cruise under power late last September I was returning from the Sassafras River to Annapolis when my boat sprung a major leak. I traced the problem to the outboard well as best I could, specifically to the engine-mount area, where visible cracks had developed in the corners.
At this unrestricted stage of my extended life, I can cruise when and where I choose and stay as long or as short a time as I wish. But as a newspaperman in the early 1970s who was smitten with sailing, my proposal for a cruising story on company time required approval from an editor.
In the mom-and-pop world of sailing, it’s the woman who often expresses little interest in her mate’s discovery of the sport. Sometimes, though, the reverse occurs: The mom takes the helm and becomes a better sailor than the pop.
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