In Defense of Dirty Hands

For now, Fifer remains in Canada, partly so we do not get distracted from our downsizing, but mostly to work through logistics to get her ready to come through customs. Our second trip up to see her was a mad dash to inventory equipment, and get the contract signed around. This last one was more relaxed, but it was time to get our hands dirty.

Unlike buying a used car, or a house, it has been my experience that when you buy a boat, you also inherit a lot of clutter. Boaters tend to be like Boy Scouts. “Be prepared,” for all situations, or at least try to be, is the mindset. The previous owner of Fifer, with the best of intentions, had tried to turn her into a Swiss Army knife; lot’s of stuff that sort of works in a pinch, but not very well.

The will to put Fifer back together, and return her to her former glory was there, but I think he just got overwhelmed.

I know from personal experience, that even smart hard working guys can get in over their heads, but you need to know when to quit. This is a lesson I am still learning, and I take it for granted that I am able to deal fairly easily with the curves that life, and mechanical things throw at you. The week before our trip we sold the last of our Mercedes diesel wagons to a good friend. I had done a lot of work to make sure that I felt confident about the car. It had new tires, battery, starter, glow plugs, thermostat, and fuel filters, and Carrie and I had both spent a lot of time working on it. The first indication that our friend might not be a good first time diesel owner was several hours after we dropped the car off, he called to say it wouldn’t shift. Carrie went over climbed in, and while he looked on in amazement pulled out on the highway as it shifted up to speed. Being used to gas cars, I am guessing he pushed the pedal all the way down, engaging the kick down switch that tells the transmission to stay in a lower gear for passing. The next day he called to say he couldn’t get it to start, and the turn signals to work. We had been driving it for two weeks with no problem, but at this point we just called AAA, and got it back. I put it on the charger, and after a few minutes it started right up. To our friends credit, he just knew he wasn’t prepared to deal. No problem. I will either keep the car, or sell it to someone who is a little more mechanical, or experienced. Just to make sure there weren’t any more gremlins in the car, we decided to take it on our trip to Canada.

The drive up was fairly uneventful, and we were looking smugly at the traffic moving slowly in the other direction, when we hit one of the worst traffic jams I have ever been stuck in. As we crested a hill, the cars in front were simply parked. Carrie watched in the rear view mirror as a car collided so hard into the one stopped beside us, that the left front wheel came off and rolled into the lane behind us. Three lanes merged into one, tempers flared, and then even more lanes merged before we made it to the tunnel that goes under the Fraser River. We spent a lot of time with the car idling at a standstill, and I was a little nervous when I saw the temperature gage start to climb. I had just put a new thermostat in, and this was the first road trip we had the white Mercedes Wagon on since I had installed the new tranny. I was relieved when we started moving again, and the temperature dropped down to normal.

We checked into the hotel, and then went down to the boat to get a little work done before calling it a day. When we went out to the car to go back to the hotel, it wouldn’t start. Undaunted, we went back to the boat, got an extra battery charger (for once I was happy with the redundant tool buying habits of the previous owner,) and started charging it while we went back down and got some more work done. Just to be safe, when we got back to the hotel, I smuggled the battery and the charger up to the room to let it charge over night.

For some strange reason, Grocery stores seem to very difficult to find in Canada. We needed distilled water to refill the batteries on the boat, and had to travel many miles, passing just about every other type of retail outlet that modern life can provide. Golf World, craft stores, Recliner land, Rice World (there is a large immigrants population,) Chow’s Exotic Meats, and lot’s of mini-marts, but nothing resembling a supermarket on our quest. In the midst of our adventure, the car started making a strange new metallic sound. This was quite unsettling in our foreign surroundings, and as we drove it got progressively worse. We pondered what it could be, and Carrie called AAA to see what our coverage was. Finally, when we got back to the shipyard I had Carrie pop the hood and keep it running. Almost immediately I was relieved to see that the fan belt was slipping, so now it was obvious where the noise was coming from, why it got hot, and why the battery wasn’t charging. I also had spare belts with me, which I put on while Carrie went down and did more work on the boat.

That weekend we filled two dumpsters. Up and down the dock I went, dragging garbage cans full of torn up tarps, foam to keep the tarps from chafing on all the ropes, cardboard boxes for all the supplies he bought, and blankets that the rodents had delighted in using along with the cardboard as a source for food and nesting material. The four socket sets, three full toolboxes, camp stove, and other miscellaneous stuff we loaded into the wagon to take to his storage unit.

I think that long before the grounding, the previous owner was out of his element. A lawyer by trade, he liked the idea of Fifer, and that of being a handy guy. Even if he didn’t do the work himself, he prided himself on knowing who to hire, and how to research what to do.

The deck leaked, and instead of keeping it simple, he just kept adding tarps on top of more tarps, stringing rope back and forth to hold them, and when the water started to pool buying step ladders and garbage cans placed to hold the low spots up. These were custom tarps, and he had several spare sets made. For the money he spent, he easily could have had a frame made, or just made one out of PVC pipe, like the guys at the shipyard tried to tell him to do. He kind of had the same approach to the hull repairs. He went with the cheap bid, didn’t listen to the people who knew what they were talking about, and when the timeline and price doubled to a year and $300,000, he just kept piling it on. In both cases he ended up with inferior results.


On the return trip we surprised my Grandma Becky by stopping in Anacortes for a visit. It was perfect timing as it was the day before her 84th birthday. “You made my birthday!” she said. We visited for about an hour, showing her pictures of Fifer and chatting about family. She is very concerned about countries current economic situation. “We lived on a farm, and so we were fine during the last depression. We took care of each other. I’m afraid that people today don’t know how to do anything for themselves. I think we are in a real mess, and I worry about these kids,” she lamented. She was relieved to hear that I had a secure job, and that we were very self sufficient.

A lot of people I know do not understand all the work I do: the old cars, home improvement, fixing everything myself, etc. My parents, as well as my in-laws came from the generation where if you were smart and well educated you hired someone else to do those things. I will admit that there were times where it would have been easier, and maybe cheaper to just buy a new car, or hire someone else. Especially in light of our recent downsizing, I definitely took on more projects than I should have, and would have been wise to devote myself to tasks more challenging or cerebral. What I don’t regret is that while most of our friends and family are in debt, we have the freedom to do what we are doing now, with no debt, no obligations. At the end of the day my hands may be dirty, but I had the ability to use them to do what needed to be done, and with the wisdom I have gained, the freedom to choose whether or not to do it myself. That my friends is a much better choice than Visa or Mastercard.