The marina had a gentle slope, so I backed the trailer in slowly until the boat began to float. She had momentum, and two people grabbed the ropes to hold her steady. One of them was too skinny for the job — the boat practically took him for a walk down the slip. But he knew his stuff, lassoed the rope to a cleat, and brought her under control.
Meanwhile, I parked the trailer. The hitch didn’t want to release (again), but with my usual trick it came free in thirty seconds. Trailer parked, truck parked, boat waiting.
The Moment of Truth
Everyone was watching as I climbed aboard. Trim down, check. Ignition on, check. Pump throttle, check. Ropes released.
And… nothing. The engine didn’t want to start.
The manual said not to crank for more than seven seconds at a time, so I tried again. And again. A few minutes later, she finally roared to life — that big 454, 7.4-litre MerCruiser with Alpha drive. No supercharger, no turbo, but the sound was enough to make the whole marina vibrate. Even the ducks and geese looked up to see what was going on.
First Departure
I eased her into reverse. The river current was strong, and the wind wasn’t helping. A group of kayakers happened to be in the way, and for a moment it looked like chaos. But they raised their paddles, the ducks scattered, and it was like the Red Sea parting.
And just like that, Our Time was off.