Okay, boys and girls, it’s boating season! This means another season where Ol’ Skipper Hudson shares tips aplenty with ye landlubbers. (This is how real sea-men talk. I would appreciate the pause where the hyphen is shown. Thanks.)
Now, first up is my most recent adventure in “letting” my wife see how to properly launch the Sea Doo. Figured I start her off slowly. As I skillfully back the trailer – since that’s man’s work – I can tell she’s impressed by the way she is faking boredom.
My plan was to back the Sea Doo in the water, let her hold the bowline, whilst I park the truck, then gallantly mount said craft and ride to our dock just a couple of hundred yards away. Simple enough, right? Done it a hundred times, right? Yes, but one thing changed. Just one. And this one thing changed everything in the universe.
See, to be helpful and “sensitive”– since as all who cross my presence know that I emanate sensitivity – I added a much longer bowline. That’s because I didn’t want to back the trailer into the water and have the super-short manly version of the bowline pull my wife into the lake, since this might greatly accelerate the reading of my will.
Admittedly, and with very soggy hindsight, I probably should’ve tied a Boy Scout Approved Knot for this extended bowline. But, well, I was, you know, very busy being all Sea Like and manly and had to back the trailer and well, something happened that I’m not all that proud of…
My wife is standing there holding the Sensitively Extended Bowline as the Sea Doo gracefully slides off the trailer. Perfect. Yet the knot for said extension was a little too sensitive and scarcely even slowed the craft as it became completely untied.
From the truck, I can see she is now holding a thoroughly limp rope watching the Sea Doo escape. This is when I used what might’ve been a colorful expression in a “non-inside” tone of voice. (Now I know why those sailors have a reputation for their language: bad knots.)
Since I’d only been planning a short journey on the Sea Doo, I was in blue jeans, so when I jumped in the lake, a sixth of the lake’s entire mass was instantly absorbed into my pant region. And though my mind was saying, “Race toward your gallant and errant steed!”, my legs were saying, “Whoa. When did you put on 600 pounds?” It seemed a fair question.
I eventually captured the craft by its short manly rope and trudged back toward the ramp, clearly having saved the day.
Yet my wife is staring at me, holding the other rope that now looks vaguely noose-ish, with a look that seemed to say, “You have the sense of an underachieving Gerbil.”
She dutifully got into the truck, nodding her head in a disapproving and superior fashion. Clearly, she failed to understand that my launching lesson included this meaningful demonstration on “What Happens When You Tie a Dumb, Ineffective Knot.”
Epilogue:
The Sea Doo and I made it safely home. And after 4 days in a solar furnace, my jeans dried out (though lake levels are still down). Then I reflected that any change in “routine” can summon the Gods of Practical Jokers to greatly alter the outcome.
It is this way in your “routine” of work, your “normal” drive home, your “normal” safety routine or your “normal” job that goes completely haywire. (And by the way, the Gods of Practical Jokers often make sure if ONE thing goes wrong in the routine with a customer, seven more you’ve never experienced happen with that SAME customer.)
The real lesson is to watch your addiction and complacency to routine. What is worth changing to achieve a better outcome? What have others experienced with that change? Maybe it’s time to extend your reach. But if you do, please double-check the knot.
Happy Boating,
