"Wilbur Hubbard" wrote in message
...
"Maxprop" wrote in message
link.net...
"Gogarty" wrote in message
...
In article . net,
says...
Absolutely. My father was fond of saying: "This isn't a dress
rehearsal."
His point being that one lives life or one does not. You can't take
your
money with you, and I sure as hell have no great desire to pass it one
to my
kid and screw her up.
We initially thought of naming our boat "SOCI" with a sedilla on the C.
But we
thought it might be unncessarily provocative. Short for Spending Our
Children's Inheritance.
I've seen similar names, such as "Our Kids' Inheritance" and "Leaving
Nothing Behind for the Kids." The last one is a puzzlement--can you
imagine calling that in when asking for a slip?
Max
Asking for a slip? And that alone doesn't embarrass you?
Not in the least. My wife and I prefer to anchor whenever we can. Some
places we choose to visit don't have anchorages, and occasionally we have
people aboard who have different preferences and requirements than ours. We
make every attempt to accommodate our passengers/friends.
Begging to pay big bucks to tie up to two piles and a pier squeezed in
among other losers while having your boat attacked by stray electricity,
In over 40 years of boating, I have yet to experience anything resembling
enough stray electricity to affect any more harm to my boat than a slight
degradation of my sacrificial zincs.
water polluted with sewage and fuel and oil,
Not in the Great Lakes. I'm sorry if you must sail such waters.
subjected to roaches, noise, fumes, rats, cats and dogs ****ing on your
lines.
Never in 40 years.
The very least of your worries is how stupid the name of your boat is, I
should think. Real sailors anchor or moor out and take a dinghy to shore.
Why on earth would you pay money to support any operation that treats you
like scum and charges an arm and a leg for it. Ya gotta be a masochist.
We've done the mooring bit, and of course we anchor far more often than take
transient slips when cruising. But we enjoy the camaraderie of a slip in
our home port. Most of the people on the dock are close friends. We party
with them, we sail with them, or take them sailing with us. We dine with
them, and have pleasant evenings with them while chatting and watching the
sun set off the end of our dock, all while loners and antisocial types hang
on their moorings in solitude, wondering what all the laughter from our dock
is about. Each to his own. Of course I realize you'd prefer a world in
which everyone thought exactly as you do, but that might be a world in which
most of us would prefer not to live.
Max