My work day began around noon. My first order of business was to rebuild the double-banked hydraulic valve I took off the Satisfaction because the handles were stuck in place. I had all the parts, I just never had time to get the job done, and now that there was no time left, I had to find the time to do it.
Next I took to loosening all the fittings that were joined together in whatever piece of equipment they were connected to. I had three valves, three different motors, and a couple of funky “manifolds” I put together with fittings and hoses for some convoluted reason or another. I loaded all my loose fittings and valves into my truck and zipped down to the boat around 3 p.m.
My biggest concern was that I would need some particular fitting, and any place I could get them would be closed over the weekend. But luckily, when all was said and done, I didn’t need a single thing.
Yes, the job would have been much cleaner if I could have simply used the correct fittings I needed, but with my large assortment of fittings on hand, I managed to get the entire contraption assembled and operational. Some fittings were contrived of two or three different fittings joined together to make a necessary connection, but nonetheless I had fluid-power flowing and doing its job.
With everything connected and operational, the test-run indicated I had more work ahead. When I started or stopped the newly installed stern roller, it shook so violently I thought it was going to jump off the boat. This was just while sitting at the dock — what would it do when I’m out there getting my ass kicked in a big southerly blow off of Kingston? That was a good question, but one I would have to answer the next day, the day before I left for fishing.
I was home late that night, like around 10:30. Everyone had gone to bed after they watched a movie. I felt a like a goon; but my boat was going to be ready! I had to wonder if it was really worth it. I strived to complete those projects as if driven by instinct. Fishing is in my genetic makeup just like the order to fly south is in the genetic composition of a goose.
I considered explaining the goose genetic-crossover connection to my wife. I had been lucky all day with my boat projects; would I be as lucky if I woke her and started talking goose jibberish? Then I remembered it was the closing hours of Friday the 13th, and decided I should just lay low and work my way off the shit list at a later date. I didn’t want to press my luck.
TO BE CONTINUED…