My long-time friend Alex rode shotgun with me to see the boat. We had agreed that if the boat was not as advertised, I would not buy the boat. The boat was in a remote town 4.5 hours away in SW Florida. I had never heard of it. TBH, I already forgot the name of this town, otherwise I would have mentioned it here. I had Alex call the owner when we were 30 minutes away to let him know of our arrival. Alex seemed amused during the conversation. When he disconnected the call, he said that an old man answered and told him to drive fast down the dirt road so that we don’t get stuck. Honk the horn as we approach the end of the road and look for a bearded old man in a red shirt jumping up and down like an idiot. When we see him, turn into that road.
We were driving down a nice online country road when we approached a dirt road that appeared to meander into a forest. The GPS insisted that we had to turn there and go down that dirt road around a corner that disappeared into trees. This tracked with the instructions Alex received so we reluctantly went. We had already come all this way. We worried that we were going to be ambushed and this was all a ploy to rob us but I assured Alex that I was packing and that I had an extra gun for him. Alex said the curiosity was overwhelming and we had to go. I floored it into the forest.
The van bounced like crazy down the road. If we slowed down, we would surely get stuck. If we went too fast, we could slide into a tree. When we finally saw the old man approximately 2 miles down this road, he just raised his hand as if he had to ask a question. To this day, I don’t know why I began honking my horn but I did as instructed. I pointed my van between two large royal palms on either side of a narrow dirt road that led into a property with two houses on it. The royal palms were just inches away from each side mirror as I drifted at a slight angle onto his property. My tires suddenly got a good grip of the floor as we tracked into a long driveway with rocks. A cloud of dirt followed us in and swept over us when we finally stopped.
The old man was tall and slender. He appeared to be in his late 80s or early 90s. He had long white hair and a long white beard that was high on his cheeks. I could tell he had thick blond hair when he was young. His skin was bronzed and sun damaged with many decades of abuse. His shirt was clean but his shorts and feet were not. His toenails were like white owl claws in his sandals. The old man greeted us and told me I had been dealing with his son online “who lives up north.” I could feel in his handshake that he wanted to shake my hand firmly but he was weak. I saw no one else on the property so I felt safe that it wasn’t an ambush. Alex hadn’t thought about safety for even a moment. He was already fully engaged with the old man and the boat with his typical friendly aloof energy and smile. More importantly, I saw the boat for the first time with my own eyes – it was beautiful. I felt better about it when Alex blurted out, “That’s the boat” It’s nice!” Over the next hour, the old man took me through the entire boat and showed me everything. We made the deal then and there.
The old man then took us into his converted garage to sign the title to the boat and trailer. The garage was more of a house that was separate from his house. He had the most unusual tchotchkes everywhere. It looked like a weird eclectic antique shop. It turns out he lived his entire life on sailboats traveling the world and these were the items he kept throughout his life. Alex asked him which was his prized possession. The old man pointed at a huge yellow faded and dented tin Corona beer sign that covered half of a wall inside the structure. It was totally out of place among all the cool shit everywhere. He said he and a friend were at a squatter beach bar somewhere in the Caribbean. The only way to get to this bar was by boat. It was patronized by less snooty sailors crossing the Carribean. They had been friends for many decades and at that point, they were both very old. They knew it would be the last time they saw each other after parting ways. The bar had become dark and quiet after drinking and reminiscing all day together. The bartender fell asleep at the bar. They hatched a plan to steal the sign as their last adventure together. He never saw his friend again and he said the sign was priceless.
Driving out of that property with the boat in tow was nuts. You can only imagine. On the way home we stopped by a Cracker Barrel. Here is the first picture I took of my boat.
