She didn’t come with a trailer. That was the first wrinkle.
The conversation with the broker started casually enough: “So, when do you want her?” Who knew that simple question would stretch into weeks of back-and-forth. The seller, as it turned out, was a bit of a celebrity — the “as seen on TV” guy from the Water Ways series. The broker, who was also a friend of his, leaned in and said, “We’ll lowball him, and you’ll get the boat.”
I knew I was being played. But I also knew the seller was open to negotiation, so I decided to push for more than just a lower price. If I had to go up a thousand dollars, I wanted some extras thrown in — the intangibles that save you money down the road: safety equipment, life jackets, a mooring pole. To my surprise, they agreed. By the time the dust settled, I had a deal that included not only the boat but also a quarter bottle of wine, a GoPro stand, and a few other odds and ends that had been left behind.
The deal was almost done. Almost.
The Trailer Problem
The broker offered to deliver the boat, but I wanted to tow it myself. That meant finding a trailer. The boat weighed in at around 6,500 pounds, so I needed something substantial. After days of searching, I settled on a three-axle trailer rated for 10,000 pounds. That gave me room for fuel, water, and holding tanks.
The timing couldn’t have been worse — right before a long July weekend. With a cashier’s check in one hand and cash for the trailer in the other, I drove out to pick it up. Not a good sign: the trailer was sitting in a farmer’s field among a collection of other used rigs. The seller was in a rush to head north for his holiday and assured me it was in “good shape.”
It wasn’t. Later I’d discover a worn tire, a bent axle, six wheel bearings that needed replacing, malfunctioning electric brakes, and lights that worked only when they felt like it. He saw me coming, and he cashed in. Lesson learned.
Learning the Hard Way
Still, I brought the trailer home, registered it, and got new plates. Now came the real challenge: learning to drive with a 30-foot trailer. I’d hauled smaller trailers before, but this was a different beast. Wide turns, careful planning, and even finding a place to park overnight became part of the adventure. Thankfully, the local church let me keep it in their lot for a night.
I barely slept. At 3 a.m., my wife and I were back on the road to Lake St. Clair. She wasn’t thrilled about the early start, but we needed to be there first thing. And yes — we stopped at the same places, and yes — cinnamon buns were purchased.
About an hour outside of town, the trailer started making a grinding noise. I knew that sound: bearings. A little smoke, a lot of worry. I pulled over, splashed some water on the middle wheel, and said a prayer. Miraculously, the noise stopped.
Closing the Deal
When we finally arrived, the broker had arranged for a guy to fit the boat onto the trailer. Of course, that’s when the skies opened up. First rain, then a downpour, then a full-on storm. We had to wait it out.
While the rain hammered down, we exchanged money, signed the paperwork, and I was handed the ownership documents. The broker even threw in the intangibles we’d agreed on.
When the storm finally broke, we hooked up the boat, tightened everything down, and rolled out.
This time, she was mine.