More On Restless Heading Home

Secound Part of Heading Home

Returning to St Augustine approximately a week prior to scheduled launch for the purpose of performing minor maintenance and painting, I would find Restless flanked by two rather interesting nautical “Projects ” that had been moved into position during my absence. To Starboard a twin engine cruiser is having four very large holes in her bottom being patched as a result of the rudders and struts being pushed thru the hull. It seems the owner failed to consider the results of leaving his boat in a shallow water slip with the tide on the Ebb. To Port, a very intrepid young woman is teaching herself fiberglass repair and doing a very impressive job, after having had a collision with a container ship at night in the fog, while sailing alone near the Turks Caicos Islands. Her tale of the incident becomes humorous as she describes how her boat skidded down the side of the ship with its crew oblivious to her presence. After yelling “Mayday” on channel 16 for nearly five minutes to get their attention, someone on the bridge with a limited vocabulary of the English language finally responded while the Captain of the ship was rousted from the rack. Initially her description of what had just taken place being viewed as a hoax by the crew. As luck would have it, the shipping company to which the ship was titled had recently briefed the captain of possible Pirate Activities in that area of the ocean and frequent drills to “Repel Boarders ” had been preformed during the voyage pervious to the incident. As if taking on copious amounts of water from having her hull cracked was not enough, she had it raining down on her from above as well.

I carry a mountain bike aboard Restless, which is usually secured horizontally to a rectangular cork style life raft of the type used aboard WWII Liberty Ships (we re talking vintage again) atop the wheelhouse. It affords me some mobility when I m in port and provides a limited cargo carrying ability with a detachable basket. With the need of bottom paint, during my minor refit while in the yard, I make the trip to the local West Marine in St Augustine, fully aware that the transport of such might be taxing the limits of its design. All goes well during my return, until crossing an intersection of a residential street from my right. With a car approaching its stop sign and my presence already leaving the curb 90 degrees to it, I figure the rate of closure and present course and speed of both vehicles is sufficient for me to cross ahead of, provided she recognize being the burden vessel with the presence of a sign bearing an octagon shape red in color with the words “ STOP ” depicted in white, is heeded. Normally, I would altered course to pass well astern in such crossing situations, however the indications of subject vehicle slowing and the operator looking directly at me, convinces me that my passage is secure. As the bearing on the bow decreases, I observe the person at the helm having her hand up near her head (The Green Side) and realize that she is using a cell phone and that Newton s First Law of Motion is about to be put to the test. She does not stop!

To avoid becoming a new fixture on her car's hood, I lock my brakes resulting in a summersault over the handlebars. The gallon of bottom paint lands on its top edge, breaking free its lid and pouring out into the street creating a large puddle of blue. Cars driving thru it redraw the centerline of the road with tire . As a result of the crown to the pavement, the contents of the can flows off into the grass. This area soon to be designated a “Toxic Waste Site” to be free of all weeds and various other such growths for at least the next Fifty years. Returning to West Marine the following day, having dumped over a hundred dollars of weed killer on the lawn, black and bruised and still wearing “War Paint”, the fellow behind the counter recognizes me and remarks, “Run out of Paint Already?” “Nah just a little touching up.”

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