dockbox blues

My boring old 2002 Buick drove reliably throughout our 15-month relationship. But a dead O2 sensor took my gas mileage from about 25 mpg to about 16. Although the heat and A/C worked, the fan for them gave up the ghost. And leaky doors left items on the floor soaked and the windshield often fogged up... and once, iced over on the inside (which was the final straw that ended of our brief relationship). These mounting repairs would be separate from the hefty front-end damage ($1,500-2,000) from when she was impaled on a guy's bike rack in a fender-bender. Since it was purely cosmetic damage I rather wore it as a badge of honor, or a warning... don't park too close or cut me off... I've got little to lose. But I just couldn't swallow the idea of spending a bunch of money fixing up the Buick. I had originally planned to sell her and use the money for my diesel fuel to get south. But now that I would be sticking around Annapolis I would probably need to keep some reliable wheels to get around. I took the Buick to the wholesaler and let her go. Between what I paid to buy and register it, and what I got in insurance proceeds and sales price, it cost me $500 + insurance + gas to drive the car for 15 months. Not bad, really. Hindsight is 20/20 of course, and I should've held onto her, but I'm too young to drive a Buick!

Six weeks ago I bought a 1992 Honda Civic with over 200,000 miles on it. It's the first car I've ever owned that is actually being held together with duct tape. Um, yeah, I'm an idiot. Just about every text message or phone call I have had relating to the car is overloaded with expletives. I made the huge mistake of taking a friend's advice and recommendation on the car. My gut was that it looked rough and the previous owner was simply a walking lobotomy. To say that every aspect of buying the car was a nightmare of delays and bungling is an understatement. At $1,000, I felt I was probably paying about twice what it was worth, but in reality he should have paid me to take the car. Sigh. On day two it had a freakout and the ignition lock would not release. I wiggled the steering wheel. Locked and unlocked all the doors (that was the magical trick with my old Benz' electrical gremlins). I called AAA only to have the call continually drop. At last, for no particular reason, it finally stopped beeping at me and let the key turn.

When she ran, she was a zippy little drive. But, alas, she was temperamental and unreliable. Just 3 weeks in she didn't want to start when I was leaving work. The check engine light came on, the battery-not-charging light came on, and an awful buzzing emitted as she strained. But after a few tries she started up. The next morning it was the same drama, but she finally started and got me to work. But that evening I was out of luck. She sat in the lot for the weekend and then was towed to the shop Monday. I got rides from co-workers for several days. But now it was urgent that repairs be made since my 30-day temporary registration would expire that Friday. But a whole work-week should be more than enough to get her going and through safety inspection. Naturally, the prior owner and our mutual friend had been more than confident it would fly through inspection (since the prior owner didn't understand the difference between a Maryland safety inspection and emissions testing, well, 'nuff said). A week and $1,000 in work later she did pass inspection, but she only ran a couple of times before dying again. Of course that $1,000 happened to be every last penny I had and desperately needed for boat repairs. So when I got in the car yesterday stressed about how much I could spend on groceries and then she wouldn't start, I just broke down. I pummeled the steering wheel with my fists and screamed and cried. $2,500 into the car between purchase, repairs, tax, tag, and title, and the car doesn't run! Arrggghhhh!!! 

My karma clearly sucks and the universe is getting even with me. Saddling me with a money pit unreliable car when I need to pamper my beloved boat. I begged my mom for back-up if another big bill was about to come crashing down and had the car towed to the dealership. At least I have a friend working at the dealership so I feel less likely to get overcharged and jerked around. It was my only day to run errands and get groceries and now I was out of luck. I should've just taken a deep breath and dove into boat projects but the gloomy rainy day was conspiring against me. I drowned my sorrows in potato chips and a Hershey bar and a strawberry laffy taffy, watched a couple bad movies, took my sleeping pills and went to bed early. I told my pets and my boat that I love them. And though the tide had sunk like a stone overnight in the heavy winds and it was not even 40 degrees out, I was determined to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning and got in a five mile run to start the day (and make up for the prior days' junk food binge). 

When the dealership called and told me I just need a new main relay I was pretty incredulous. The other shop allegedly put in a new one, and then a new fuel pump. But the dealership says she's fixed and the bill was shy of $200. I don't know if the other shop simply ripped me off or not on the relay switch, and I don't really have the fight in me to get into it.  Luckily, I had a friend willing to drop me at the dealership and I retrieved her. She started up fine and didn't let me down as I ran a couple errands before heading home. Fingers crossed she keeps running.

I had wanted to name her, but couldn't settle on anything. I'm tempted to call her "bad karma" but it's bad luck to name a boat anything like that (e.g., a hole in the water, money pit, etc), and I fear the same may hold for cars. Maybe I'll just call her "dockbox." Even if she doesn't run, I guess she can be a very expensive storage facility. Sigh. How about Bluebell? Blue Bunny?

I was going to say the moral of the story is never buy a car through a friend, but I actually got an excellent deal on a reliable car from my friend who sold me the Buick. But he's an actual car-guy. So, the moral of the story is to trust your gut. If you think you're being ripped off you probably are. If you think something isn't worth the money, it probably isn't. If you think someone doesn't have your best interests at heart, they probably don't.

Next up: I need to get that throttle cable replaced so I can (1) move to a new slip with (hopefully) less adjacent car noise but more annoying tourists taking their pictures in front of our boats, and (2) get this vessel out on the bay for some much-needed (if not deserved) fun and adventures.

one year

One year aboard. Happy liveaboardaversary to me. I only wish I had moved aboard twenty years ago and taken off around the world. But at least I got off the wrong path; better late than never. Living aboard is definitely not for everyone. It presents its own set of challenges and compromises that many would consider far too inconvenient or burdensome. One is either called to it or not. I do it for the love of boating and being on the water. For the love of being rocked to sleep by the sea. For freedom.

Despite my stubborn ability to do whatever I set my sights on (other than financial success), despite jumping into life aboard and making it through the challenges of winter aboard and pets aboard and all the quirks of this lifestyle I have embraced, I am still plagued by guys a fraction of my age acting like I don't know anything about boats and talking down to me. Sigh. I was already a back-up depth sounder hanging over the deck of a 54-footer in the Keys when those boys were in middle school. Every boater, power and sail, still has something to learn to the day they die. I guess I have to stop being so polite and just tell guys who think they are old salts to STFU.

I think the frequency of snobbery and know-it-all attitudes is the biggest drawback to being a liveaboard. Those who take their boats out often look down on the "dock queens." The cruisers think they are better than the liveaboards who either choose to (or have to) live and work in one place. There is so much sizing-up over length, gadgets, miles under keel, et cetera it can be nauseating. It's bad enough in the forums, but I can easily avoid them. It's much harder to avoid the folks who come and go at my marina every day. I definitely won't ever enter another slip lease that ties me down on more than a monthly basis. There's no point to being aboard if I can't change my view and my neighbors quickly and easily.

The process of divesting myself of furniture and other "stuff" ashore continues. I am eager for the stress and expense of it to be over. Adding to the strain, my sister launched some mission to find a place to store my hope chest that I had told her would either be sold, tucked away at a friend's, or chopped up into a boat project of some kind. So I had to respond to unsolicited emails about storage to tell them I hadn't asked for any storage and didn't need any. I figure everyone has enough of their own problems that they don't need to butt into mine or create new ones for me, but I guess not.

But yesterday I made progress, selling the beautiful huge dining table, a credenza, and... the hope chest. They are going to a local artist. I know they will be going to a good home, will be enjoyed and cared for. My grandfather built the chest for my grandmother for her 24th birthday, and she gave it to me for Christmas when I was four years old. I have loved it and lugged it all over the country for decades now. My grandparents wouldn't want me to be held back, anchored down by a piece of furniture. I have the memories of them. I value what the hope chest was and stood for. It has gone on to a new home, where it will be an interesting conversation piece, where it will be cared for and used. Sentimental things are in your heart and your mind, they don't need to be in your house or a storage locker. Letting go of all those "things" is hard, but that is the cost of freedom. A small price to pay.

So, what unsolicited advice would I give new or prospective liveaboards now that I'm a year in? First, never, ever, ever sign an annual slip contract. Yes, you save money doing so. But you lose the freedom the boat is all about. And if you look around and see any empty slips at the marina, you can likely negotiate to get the annual rate even if you are just a monthly transient. Second, just get rid of all the furniture and other trappings of life ashore. All that money spent storing "stuff" is far better spent on equipment for your boat or a great boatwarming party. Yes, it is hard to let go of all those things that once meant and cost so much. But that painful purging is part of the experience of moving aboard and it is better to just rip the band-aid off and be done with it. Finally, trust your gut, your instincts, and bring all your other life experience to bear when tackling challenges. About half the advice others give you will be useful and valuable, and about half will be incredibly stupid, perhaps even dangerous advice. Just because someone has been doing something for half a century doesn't mean they've been doing it right. Trust and believe in yourself and your boat; if you love her, she will love you back.

to insure prompt service

A couple of days ago I had the Harbormaster's mobile pump out boat come by. I had only used the pump out boat once before and at that time two other boats in my small marina also wanted pump outs. I just paid my $5 for the pump out, but it sounded like the other boats tipped the guy. I didn't know what is expected or appropriate, so when I got pumped out the other day I tipped the guy a buck. That's 20% of the $5, but I felt it might have been chintzy and wanted to know the etiquette for tipping in that situation. Oh, did I forget to mention the guy is cute and chatted me up a bit? Regardless, I know well what it's like to depend on tips, so I wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing.

I dropped an email to a friend whose judgment I trust so I could get his advice and view on tipping for pump outs. He definitely tips and tips well; generally $5 on a pump out. He has sailed, but is primarily a power boater. Feeling comfortable now that tipping is called for, and that a $3 to $5 tip for pump out, depending on the service, is a reasonable range, I could have (should have) just moved on. But being curious by nature, I decided to see what the forums had to say about it. And true to form, the forums pretty much make my blood boil.

The reputation that power boaters tip much, much better than sail boaters appears to be very well grounded in reality. When searching on Sailnet for "tipping pump out" and "tipping marinas" not one relevant search result even appeared. Cruisers Forum had a variety of threads on tipping launch drivers and marina staff or dock hands, and on tipping in US marinas.

Apparently tipping is customary, appropriate, and expected along the US east coast. (I seem to remember my ex tipping dock hands twenties when we were running his brother's 54-foot yacht in Miami and the Keys.) It sounded as though tipping is less common on the west coast, but that dock hands being around to help is also infrequent. The Canadians, Brits, Kiwis, and Aussies mostly showed themselves to be not only cheap, but incredibly resentful of tipping just about anyone, ever. Even when they know very well that it is expected in the US. Not tipping or tipping very little may be the custom in their countries, but it is very bad karma to bring that attitude to the US. I read ridiculous posts along the lines of "employers should simply pay a good wage" and "I don't tip because I only frequent businesses who pay their employees well." Yeah, right. I seriously doubt anyone is out there asking just how much the dock hands are paid before they book a slip at a marina. And who exactly gets to be the arbiter of whether someone's wage is good, livable, or fair?

Make no mistake, in jobs where tipping is traditional--restaurant staff, hairdressers, taxi drivers--tipping isn't "optional." It is part of the price you are expected to pay for the service. If you can't afford to tip 20% then don't eat or drink out.

Many people don't seem to realize that most waiters in the US make effectively nothing. In the Annapolis area servers and bartenders make $3.63 an hour. (Apparently federal law allows it to be as low as $2.13 in some places.) One's "paycheck" is zero because that whopping $3.63 an hour is all withheld for taxes. Whether you tip or not the server has to pay taxes as if you did because the restaurant declares tips for the staff based on the server's sales. The server may also pay 2.5% in credit card processing fees, and usually tips out 10% to the bar and another 15% to the busser.

I saw one post saying it's not fair to have to tip a server since all they do is carry some food, that someone else cooked, to your table. Wow. There's a lot more to it than the time a server spends with you at your table. They arrive hours before the restaurant opens to clean, prepare the dining room and service areas, cut fruit, cut bread, educate themselves on that night's soup and specials, et cetera. Most servers really are there to provide you a high-quality professional service that not just anyone can provide. They almost certainly know and care more about cuisine and wine than 99% of their customers. The ability to stay organized under pressure, timing meals, dealing with rude, difficult, or mean customers, knowing about the food preparation or being willing to check with the chef to accommodate customers' peculiar allergies, diets, or preferences, those are not skills that everyone has and they are not easy to teach. It can be back-breaking work carrying large trays of food and kegs of beer. And it can be soul-sucking work when after recommending the perfect wines and catering to the table's every whim, you find a measly 15% tip.

Tipping actually makes a lot of sense for paying servers and bartenders because the server at a breakfast diner and the server at a fine dining restaurant probably shouldn't be making the same wage. Having it keyed to the cost of the meal often reflects the difference in skills and education needed for the role. In fine dining customers expect the server to know wines that may cost as much as the server will make that night. You would probably be shocked by how many customers I've had who didn't know French or haute cuisine terminology for food and needed me to explain it. Even more frequent were customers who use the wrong bread plate or don't know how to place their silverware to indicate they are ready for the next course. Fine dining is a dance that requires both the server and the customer to know the steps to be truly successful.

But enough ranting about tipping. The bottom line is one should tip, and tip well. It makes a difference. It will insure you prompt service the next time around. It's good for your karma. If you're a sail boater and usually thrifty, be the one to stand out and tip well.

Sail boaters have a well-earned reputation for cheapness and they should not be proud of it. That is not to say it isn't admirable to get by on a tight or small budget, to make the most of everything one has, or to fight for a good deal. Frugality can be admirable; frugality is about not being wasteful of anyone's resources. It benefits both the individual and the commons. Cheapness, on the other hand, is a character flaw. Period. And if a potential romantic interest is cheap, run don't walk. Cheap people are often not just tight-fisted with their money, but also with their time, energy, and physical affection. The last thing anyone wants is to go on a date or hang with a friend who invariably complains about the cost of things or has to find the cheapest deal available. Somehow, money and prices always come up. Quite the opposite, I had a friend who would arrange at the outset for the bill to be taken care of. The last thing he wanted at the end of a wonderful meal was to ruin it with discussion of money.

on watch

Hunter likes to survey the decks and stand watch. 

While Maximus is Chief Snuggling Officer.