Testing my boat at the Cargill Mill Pond

Everything about this venture spelled disaster long before I embarked on it.

My boat was an early 60s Arkansas in fiberglass. A fourteen footer. She had, hanging off the transom, a 36 hp Johnson outboard. Pull start. Mid-fifties vintage.

It was "borrowed" from my dad, who'd had it sitting in his drive shed for years. I sold the "borrow" by stressing that the old Arkansas deserved to see water again.

Spent the winter fitting new rings and bearings to the Johnson. That was a pleasant pass-time when my children were little.

"Hey kids, on this Daddy weekend we're going to take apart the motor on that boat to see what makes it work!"

Luckily this was just as the internet generation was finding its feet, and my kids didn't realize yet that they'd have way more fun MSNing their friends rather than passing me wrenches.

The next summer would have been too late. That social media thing swept in hard and fast.

So it was springtime in Bruce County and the ice was off the Cargill Mill Pond, which was the nearest body of water suitable for a test run. Headed out bright and early on a Saturday. Even invited my dear Daddy up to witness the rebirth of the old Arky.

First sign that this was a doomed venture came as I was sliding her off the trailer. Only took a few minutes to notice that she was filling up with water.

I can't say here what I said there, in earshot of my dear daughter, may God forgive me, but in all the excitement of the engine rebuild and the general refurbishment of the hull, I'd forgotten to put the transom plug back in.

The purpose of that plug is to drain water out after an afternoon of boating. You pull her out of the lake, unscrew that plug, and drain out the accumulated spray and wash you collected out on the water.

But that drain hole is just as likely to let water in. So as I'm backing the trailer into the Cargill Mill Pond my little Arkansas is filling up. Unfortunately nobody noticed this till the boat was sitting on the bottom of the boat ramp.

Everything aft of the windshield was underwater.

A boat filled with water is way heavier than a boat not filled with water. There was no way to get the trailer under it, even though it was sitting right there by the launch ramp.

We tried pulling her out by hand. After all, it's only a fourteen footer, but no way. Had to pull her up on the grass with my tow strap.

We drain the water out, put the transom plug in, and relaunch.

Everything is looking good. I've got my dear daughter at the controls and her doting grampa on the shore watching us get the old girl fired up after that near miss.

After numerous pulls on that starter cord, while simultaneously fiddling with various carburetor parts, the old Johnson sputters to life.

Dear daughter takes that as her signal to ram the controls full ahead.

The fifty year old Johnson hits her redline for about half a second.

I go flying over the transom.

The boat sputters to a slow drift, motor deader than dead.

After a few unfortunate words exchanged with my dear daughter while she rowed the boat back to shore I set about to restart the motor.

A dozen cord pulls, nothing.

Four dozen cord pulls, with unlimited carburetor fiddling, nothing.

Finally I called my buddy Lippert, may he rest in peace, who lived not ten minutes away.

And that's how long it took him to get there. Had the old Johnson purring in another ten minutes.

Jimmy left, and the rest of our little crew raced back and forth and back and forth on that little mill pond... till on one of those 180 degree turns into our own wake at the end of the Cargill Mill Pond the motor stalled out.

Pulled on that cord half a dozen times.

Then I pulled it right out of the starter housing.

That was the end of the boat test.