Bob is a guy I used to crew with on another's boat. I think it was called "Never Enough". Bob stopped sailing about a decade ago. Following that, for the longest time he used to walk his Weimaraner around this beach parking lot, for many laps, off lease. Apparently, this past year he had to put it down.
He has a new dog which he also takes around the lot for many laps. Only this dog Bob keeps on a very short leash. Both of these, man and dog, shuffle along, heads bowed and straight ahead, over and over. What the hell is the point in all that? If you have a pooch on a leash, why not go somewhere? E.g., end of the break water & and back? Bob doesn't have much peripheral vision: if I don't stand in his path, I won't be noticed. And, if noticed, my name will not be remembered. I no longer reintroduce myself. I don't get Bob. Maybe if the parking lot were a prison yard, then maybe I might get him. But "Bob" may be in my future. I'm checking out with fear and anxiety.
You should never go to the waterfront or the harbor before work. Before I went this morning, I already had a credible excuse: "My wife made me late to work". But anytime you are at the water front, the people you know and don't know are in such a good mood that they are talkers. And so am I, actually, when I'm in a good mood. Which I am whenever I'm at the water's edge.
ReplyDeleteI was tasked to check the harbor mail box for a check. Enroute I ran into Bob who was doing his parking lot laps without Aqua this morning: she was having her stitches out. Delightful chat. He disclosed that he is going on 89 this year, and that Aqua is ever bit as well trained as Doberwoman for off the leash. Bob just can't takes the stress of being brow-beaten by the Harbor Patrol for not using a leash. We talked about other places he and I might go together that the 'four of us' could be off leash. He's been them places and it's not going to happen again, I got the feeling.It comes down to the smoothness of the footing. Fair enough, Bob. You can have your street cred back.
Then I ran into Chris who runs the sailing center and who I didn't know. We talked about boats he was running and boats he was on the look for. He's not looking for privately owned boats to lease. And he didn't bite on mine.
Then I checked on Trophyboat. Stern ladder was off and she was wearing a new coat of primer. Looked better than she has in a very longtime. Hell, leave her that way, I said. I'll sail 'er fine in that transparent gray skin. She'll be that more transparent invisible and stealthy, I was thinking.
I was approaching my mail box when I encountered my broker. Says he, "I have to warn you. Every time a seller has his boat cleaned up and looking good, he wants to keep 'er. He wants to be sailing and not selling." Poor timing I told him. Abysmally. Because I was already thinking that way and all I was doing was looking at that unblemished primer.
After lobbing four or five tennis balls into the Pacific for Doberwoman, I was relieved to leave the harbor for downtown. Late for work again.