The Mark’s Boat-Dreaming saga continues, much to my chagrin

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THE SONIC BOOMER

Mark and I are currently in Tennessee, scheduled to watch yet another boat tomorrow. Mark has looked at five boats so far, looking to buy one that meets “our” needs. Three of these boats made it all the way to sea trials (like a home inspection) but none of those sales went through due to unreliable electronics, poor padding, or the guy who installed it. looked at the day before signing on the dotted line before us. .

Every time we don’t get the boat, Mark is devastated.

Every time we don’t get the boat, I see a silver lining.

Obviously, Mark and I disagree on the subject, but, because we’ve been married a long time, we don’t argue about it. I want him to be happy, and thinking of him behind the wheel of a boat makes him very happy. When we’re not actually looking at the boats, he “searches” for boats online, all the while smiling. He probably clicked on the photos of 1,500 boats, often calling me to admire this or that particularity of this or that boat. He is always smiling. I still hold my tongue.

The boats he is looking at are 36 feet long. According to Mark, this is the size “we” need to entertain our children’s families. I point out that the families of our children will each come to see the boat once, say “beautiful boat” and go on with their busy lives. They can stay one night in a cabin, but the rest of the time it’s him and me, struggling through something. I pray that I personally never have to park.

But Mark sees sun-kissed grandchildren jumping into the water from an upper deck or giggling wildly from an inflatable raft towed behind the boat. He sees himself and I huddled together on the foredeck, sipping pineapple drinks as the sun slowly sets. He imagines hours, days, weeks of exploring the coastline from Miami to Maine.

I don’t see any of that. I see grandchildren falling from an upper deck headfirst onto a metal railing or screaming frantically when a shark approaches their inflatable raft. I see Mark and I huddled together on the foredeck under a tarp, eating soggy crackers as the rain continues to intensify. I imagine hours, days, weeks from boring coasts from Miami to Maine, trapped in a slow-moving vehicle with no pizza delivery, no first-run movies and no emergency medical clinics.

The last boat we looked at, Mark said, “You see anything wrong with that?

I said, “Yes. It’s a boat.

Between travel, hotels, food, and inspections, we’ve spent several thousand dollars examining the boats…so far. I can’t think of any new ways to tell Mark how much I hate this idea. I offered to rent a boat, to co-own a boat, to find a friend with a boat. I begged, begged, moaned, and as a last resort I resorted to logic. Boats are expensive. Gas is expensive. Repairs are expensive. Slides are expensive.

Deaf ears. He wants to buy a boat.

Does this story have a happy ending? I do not know. Ask me tomorrow night.

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