SpinSheet, in honor of its 30th anniversary this year, is printing articles from our archives. This one by the late, great Lin McCarthy, first ran in March 1999 in our spring commissioning section. It’s a bit backward seasonally but guaranteed to bring a smile:
The Relationship; from the March 1999 SpinSheet.
by Lin McCarthy
Ah, what a glorious union! When first you met you could not bear to be apart. You shared friends and acquaintances with her and her with them. You ate together. You traveled together. Yes, you slept together. It was the best summer of your life.
Then came cold times on the hard. You left her. You said you’d support her financially—to ease your pangs of guilt, perhaps—but you told her not to expect to see much of you for a while.
That fall day you abandoned her. Wrapped her in a blue plastic tarp. Stripped her of her running rigging. You took away her rudder with promises to make it smoother, fairer, faster. Was the promise to ease the parting?
You wrenched out her innards. Could not leave the cushions in the main salon or vee berth, protecting against dampness and mildew you said. You tossed indiscriminately into the pickup truck all the carefully chosen charts, linens, and water toys.
You ripped out the heart of her electronics to prevent theft and drained her engine’s juices to prevent ice, you coldly rationalized. You allowed her a single light bulb for life support. She existed sometimes patiently, always sadly, after that fall day. Her keel shamelessly exposed—held aloft by a platoon of jackstands that paraded across the boatyard. The indignity of being on the hill was beyond comprehension.
She suffered the loneliness of winter. A wall of surrounding office buildings or trees prevented her escape. Utility wires draped and swung dangerously close to her still proud mast. She sat stranded—visited only by birds stopping to bask in the winter sun on her windex. You came once.
And, you seemed to delight in publicly gouging out the few blisters that had popped up for all to see.
Now comes the warmth of spring. You, the prodigal son, return. You bring back all you took. You seek to restore the treasured memories of the past. You have come to your senses. She forgives you. Let the spring commissioning begin!
