Ghost Ship gets painted!

On the way up from Ft. Lauderdale last year, it was convenient (if amusing) that most boats gave us a very wide berth while in the waterways, some nearly to the point of running aground. Covered with peeling paint and rust, performing her best "floating ship of doom" imitation, Free Spirit scattered the faint of heart. Somehow our desheveled appearance, along with my 9 year old son giving his presidential wave from atop the cabin trunk gave some the impression that a collision with a lesser vessel was not likely to be of the slightest concern to us:

......With a satisfying crunch, the rusty hulk split our polished fiberglass hull cleanly in two. The death groans of our lost craft could just be heard over the rust chips falling into the water. "just a minute!" called a voice from the other end of the ship. The inflection in the voice gave the impression of minor inconvenience, as if we had just asked for a glass of orange juice. Several minutes later, a balding man with a fresh cup of tea looked down upon us from the foredeck. "thanks, chap - I reckon that'll save me a few on the sandblasting! Care for a tea?" Overcome with incredulity, words failed us completely. "very well then, just clear off to port, we'll be out of your way in a flash, and you can swim over to those pilings".....

Our port of destination was Glades Boat storage, just southwest of lake Okeechobee. Free Spirit was sorely in need of painting, and looked for all the world like a derelict snatched from Neptunes salty grasp. Her paint system had failed due to improper surface prep or incompatible paint, and though only seven years old and completely sound, she was, by a substantial margin, the worst looking boat in the yard. To her credit, although she was in a sad cosmetic condition Free Spirit still looked salty and capable - sort of a ghostship chic - but that she was an eyesore by any measure could not be disputed by a sane man.

We had her hauled to the sandblasting pit, which was at the apex of the right hand turn to go to the entrance of the yard. It so dominated the entrance to the yard that the following passage was added to the driving directions on the informational brochure:

"Driving to the yard after securing the final turn, the rusty ship looms ever larger on the horizon, as the distance separating you from the hulk collapses into a mere wish. At the last possible second, in the very shadow of the ghastly apparition, the road darts to the right, providing a quick, if narrow, escape. "

When we talked to the kind folk undergoing preparations of their own, the question of which ship we were from would inevitably arise. "Oh, ... It's so ......... .......... ........ Big! " It was altogether too kind of them to conceal their true thoughts, which could only have been "rusty....rusty.... must... not.... say.... RUSTY HULK!"

Her transformation could only be described as astounding.