Row, row, row your boat.
Within one year, two of my fishing buddies—Jimmy and Marck—each acquired drift boats. The first result of this was that they each became my very best friends. Another by-product was that over the past 7 or so years I’ve been fortunate to spend a fair amount of time between the gunwhales of each boat, both fishing and taking turns on the oars. For me personally the most productive times were spent rowing.
Marck’s boat, nicknamed the Hornet (due to its yellow and black color scheme) took on a personality all its own over the years. Sometimes also referred to as The Banana Boat, more than a few fishless days were spent onboard the Clackacraft 16LP. Regardless, countless good times were had in Marck’s boat, despite the colors being a constant reminder of the year that the Steelers allegedly beat the Seahawks in Super Bowl Xtra Large. That aside, it was a fine vessel that only feared one rock during its tenure. But the Hornet—having recently been sold—is now a thing of the past. And rumor has it that Jimmy’s Hyde, which has spent far more time in the garage than on the water in recent years, may also be for sale. Best friends with boats giveth, and best friends with boats taketh away…
What’s a guy to do when his former best friends sell their boats out from under him? Certainly seeking new best friends is an option, but that seems like an awful lot of wasted energy and would be rash, even for a shallow likes of a person such as myself. Besides, we all get set in our ways and slowly begin to value our fishing buddies not necessarily just for their boats, but for the sandwiches and beverages they bring along in their coolers. No, it seems the only reasonable thing to do is keep my friends, and get a boat of my own.
It’s been said that when one gets their own drift boat, one spends more time rowing and less time fishing. While that may be true, in my case, that’s probably not a bad thing.