Retired Old Farts

Yesterday started off fine.  The workmen fixing the end of C Dock arrived early.  The story, as I heard it, was that the captain of an 80' yacht hit the end of C Dock so hard that he broke the huge metal piling and concrete dock.  The barge carrying crane arrived two days ago, and yesterday was the day to pull the broken piling out.  This, of course, attracted the attention of the ROF's (Retired Old Farts) at the marina.  ROFs are guys with many years of experience doing a myriad of things.  Although retired, we are a fountain of knowledge, and more than willing to share our expertise with everyone.  It's what we do.

The four hard hatted workmen were scurrying about, obviously without a clue.  They were all over the barge and the dock, playing with chains and other useless paraphenalia with no idea what they were doing.  But are you ready for this?  They did NOT want any advice from the ROFs.  I know!  Hard to believe.

The Georgia gnats are so bad that one of the workmen covered up with a hoodie and face screen.  The gnat is the Georgia state bird.

Well, despite not taking the advice of two retired computer professionals and a sales expert from Bosch, they managed to somehow get the piling pulled.

Meanwhile, our friends from A Dock aboard the sailing vessel Wye Not joined the Great Migration north.  They're headed back to the Chesapeake.  They were fortunate and found a merging slot just behind a trawler.

Seeing as how my advice on the proper way to pull a piling was not wanted, I decided to do what many ROFs do.  I went fishing while Pam cleaned and scrubbed teak.  It was a good fishing day.  I caught four spotted sea trout.  As usual, I released them all, except for a 17"er that looked too yummy.  I kept him for dinner.

Exhausting Georgia of it's spotted sea trout population, I returned to Drift Away where Pam was still scrubbing and cleaning teak.  Feeling like I should do something constructive, I pretended to work on the Whaler's outboard motor.



No, do not adust your set.  The photo is not blurry.  I am blurry in real life.

I sprayed copious quantities of carburetor cleaner into the Evinrude, with some success.  I can get it  to start and kind of run, but it cuts out and dies.  I think it was probably put away twenty years ago with gasoline still in the carburetor and fuel lines.  Old gas turns into molten varnish.  I think it needs to be taken apart and really cleaned out.  By a professional.

So then my attention turned to dinner and the sea trout.  I had the trout on a stringer in the water by the boat to keep him alive, and fresh.  Being a humane carnivore, I grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured some into his gills.  This is supposed to kill a fish instantly, but Tommy (I named him Tommy the Trout at this point) seemed to enjoy it.  I flipped him over and poured vodka into his other gill.  He took it in stride.  Finally, he passed out.  I don't know what his blood alcohol level was, but I think he would fail a roadside test.

Yep, there he is.  I filleted him, then fryed him in butter with some black pepper and Mrs. Dash's, along with rice and veggies.  Tommy was yummy.

So, all in all, yesterday was a good day living aboard Drift Away.  I still can't believe that the workmen didn't want the advice of the ROFs.  They were even a little rude, I thought.  What they told us to do was physically impossible.