After a week of sleeping and dreaming on the boat on the trailer in the  
driveway, I took it for my first sail yesterday on tiny, local Pinto  Lake.  
Good thing the ramp wasn’t crowded.  Kept blowing the  back-up and having to go 
around the parking lot again, to the great  entertainment of the picnickers on 
shore.  Fortunately, my husband  who works at the little next door airport 
happened to show up, and  directly inserted that boat into the water.  Next 
thing out of his  mouth was a reminder to put the tiller under the traveler 
while I was  placing the rudder, so he was banished back to the airport for 
being  insufferable.  My boat, my learning. He sure knows how to whip a  
trailer around, though.  When I remarked to the kids how lucky he  happened to 
show up, they admitted they’d feared never getting out of  the parking lot and 
had surreptitiously cell-phoned an SOS.  So,  what the heck, at the end of the 
day, we called him again and he hauled  the boat out of the water
 right smartly.  Showed up with hot  pizza, too.  A wonderful man!
  
  The boat is wonderful, too.  My 15-yr-old son took the helm, and  declared 
himself a “natural sailor,” conveniently forgetting the one  summer of sailing 
lessons, and the next summer racing lasers.  But  the boat, at least in the 
light lake wind, does have a way of making  you feel like a natural. It tacks 
crisply, and has a big boat solid  feel combined with little boat 
responsiveness.  When my 12-yr-old  son finished scrubbing the road dust off 
the deck, I raised the jib and  put him at the helm, and he did very well 
despite the distractions of  tree-lined-shore wind changes and fighting with 
his older  brother.  A Potter 15 showed up and there was great halloo-ing as  
we passed each other up and down the lake.  We played around with  weight and 
balance and each of us took turns for a small nap down  below, listening to the 
splashings on the hull, and the thumping around  of wrestling boys on deck, and 
we all agreed we’d like to live on board  forever.  Next purchase: a
 swim ladder.
  
  Given my obsession with my new toy, my husband has taken to calling it  the 
other man, and thinks I should name the boat “Francois” or  “Emilio.”  In that 
vein, I think I’ve come up with a better  name.  I’m seriously considering 
calling it “Bob.”
  
  Happy sailing!
  Grace M15 #478 “Bob” (maybe)
  
  
       
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