The Miracle Grand Slam

A friend came all the way from Utah last week to help me with some boat maintenance here in south Florida. My Whaler needed to have some very heavy batteries changed out and some pumps repaired and replaced. It was heavy lifting and definitely a two-man job, so I was very thankful for his help. We toiled away the first day and managed to get many of the chores under control. The batteries were not too bad except for the weight and getting them down into their locker. Awkward and heavy, I was glad (we’ll call him) Bobby was doing the lifting and positioning of those behemoths! I went to work on some electrical gremlins in the freshwater pump. By the time I had narrowed the problem down to either a bad pump or oxidized wiring Bobby was already done with moving all four batteries! He was starting on installing a new macerator pump when he checked on my progress. I had already installed a new fuse and switch. The pump had power, but it was fluctuating. It varied from 9 to 12 volts. He took one look at the pump itself and said, “That pump looks brand new.” I agreed, and a closer inspection showed a manufacture date of 2022.  I hadn’t used the boat but a couple of hours since then, so we decided to wire it directly to the 12-volt batteries. Off it went! Ran like new. Problem solved. Oxidized wires. By the time I had replaced the old wires Bobby was already finished with replacing the macerator pump for the fish boxes.

The first day of our fishing trip—oops, I mean, boat maintenance trip—went really well. So well, in fact, that we decided to tackle a few more tasks the following day. The freshwater shower on the rear deck wasn't working, and the solar charge controller on one battery bank needed replacing. I took apart the shower head and discovered it was just dirty and stuck in the closed position. After a quick clean-up, it was functioning again, and the solar charge controller was... all right. I think it's safe now. Apologies for all that tedious maintenance talk. I needed to make sure Bobby's wife and mother-in-law got bored and stopped reading. We had to invent the boat maintenance story to cover up yet another fishing trip. Thankfully, they completely bought it. It was surprisingly easy!

We indeed did all those things, not just for safe and comfortable fishing, but also for my daughter and her family. They were visiting the following week and were eagerly anticipating boating, beach activities, and fishing with grandma and grandpa.

I crafted some new saltwater lures (Mullet Bullet and Trout Ammo) and was eager to test them. Bobby was excited to add several more saltwater species to his list. You get the idea; there were lots of high expectations.

We left the dock and ventured into the heart of the 10,000 Islands for some backwater fishing adventures. Always the considerate host, I patiently waited to start fishing until my guest caught a fish. Or in this case a grand slam! How rude. I know, I know, there are lots of Slams! Florida Fish and Wildlife recognizes many, and the IGFA (International Game Fish Association) identifies three official slams: the Grand Slam, the Super Grand Slam, and the Fantasy Grand Slam. Bobby caught Snook, Speckled Sea Trout, and Redfish. Not to be outdone, I fished hard and managed to catch a Grand Shame! I caught Common Catfish, Sail Catfish, and a clump of oyster bed. The oyster put up a surprisingly tough fight!

The next day started with the promise of fishy feeding frenzies and double ups. Maybe even another Grand Slam! For me. Not Bobby. He had taken to sitting around with a satisfied look on his face. Then he would get this big smile. Disgusting. I seriously contemplated the possibility that I might have to pull his Man Card. Alas I didn’t have to contemplate very long. We were in a spot that had been good, but we weren’t looking for good we were looking for great. We were moving on. Bobby was at the helm and had the engines in gear and idling along while I got the boat ready to go fast. Satisfied everything was stowed he pushed the throttles forward smartly. The rear of the boat gave a blast of grinding roaring noise! He threw the shifters right back into neutral.  Adrenalin hit us hard as we began sorting out what had happened. We quickly confirmed we weren’t talking on water or in any real danger, but the lower end on the port engine now had reverse only and forward sounded like train wreck. My heart sank. So much for our promising day, right? Then the realization sank in that this was not going to be fixable before the kids got here.

I had a lot of time to think as we limped back home on one engine. Think about what a protracted mess it was going to be to get the boat repaired. Think about the disappointed looks on the grandkids’ faces when we told them the boat was back in the shop. Think about how expensive it was going to be. It got gloomy on my side of the boat. Bobby on the other hand was still sporting that look of satisfaction and that annoying smile. I wanted to be in a bad mood, but Bobbys’ positive outlook was irresistible. It somehow sloshed over onto me, and I found myself on the phone dealing with it.

I contacted the team at Naples Boat Mart and explained the situation, even asking if they could fix it within two days. I pulled out all the stops, mentioning my daughter's family visiting from Indiana for a vacation we'd been planning for over a year. I couldn't help it; Bobby's can-do spirit was still influencing me. I can already hear my friends in Southwest Florida laughing and deriding me— stop it, it's not nice. I can feel their pity—seriously, stop it, it's not nice. The person on the phone said, "So you have a bad lower end assembly on the port engine, and you want us to fix it in two days, right?" I said "yes.". He replied, "Let me talk to the service manager and I'll get back to you right away." If you're not familiar with the SISC (service industry secret code), "right away" usually means they'll call you back in a few weeks, if at all. I hung up and started considering alternative activities for the kids.

My phone rang 5 minutes later. My first thought honestly, was who could that be, I’m not expecting any calls. It was the service manager from Naples Boat Mart! I braced myself for the next SISC communication. It’s usually “I’m shorthanded”, or” I don’t have the parts”, or the ultimate finality of “my first service appointment is next month”. Okay, okay in their defense those things can all be true. In the end it makes no difference. Whatever words he was going to use the bottom line was, they all meant the same thing, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”  But to my surprise he greeted me warmly. Asked how I was and let me know he thought he could help. Let’s just hit the pause button for a minute. Let that sink in. There is no SISC for that.

It turned out that he had just received a boat with the same engines I have on my boat. It had just come to him that day, 13 months after the hurricane! It had been totaled for extensive hull damage. The engines were fine! He was going to send out a trailer and pull my boat out of the water at my ramp. He was going to send a mechanic with the trailer, and he would put the lower end from that boat onto mine. I could be back on the water the next day. HA! Now who’s laughing and deriding? By the evening of Bobby’s last day, we were back on the water and were both enjoying a furious bite. Fountains of bait fish erupting out of the water all around us. Unseen gamefish hunting for a meal with reckless abandon. On a couple of occasions, we each had fish on at the same time. It had been slow but suddenly as the sun was about to settle into the ocean on the horizon, everything seemed to be exploding in an awesome display of the food chain. And we were at the top of it for the moment! It was one of those magical days on the water that you never want to forget. But it almost didn’t happen.

Seriously, just when I think that I have then universe all figured out something like this happens and renews my faith in humanity. Thank you, God! (You’re just showing off with the whole totaled boat thing.) Thank you, Naples Boat Mart! You guys really came through for me. And thank you, Bobby! Thank you all. I think the IGFA needs to add a fourth Grand Slam. The Miracle Grand Slam!  I got away with another great fishing trip with my friend. I got my boat fixed by a bunch of great guys at the marina. The next day! And I got to enjoy my family for a wonderful week of boating, beaching and fishing.

The following morning, as I sat on my Lanai, I watched the sun rise on another beautiful day in Florida. Everything seemed perfect. Bobby was safely on his way to the airport, heading back to his family. I was reminiscing about the wonderful moments we had during our fishing—um, maintenance trip when I noticed muffled giggling coming from the kitchen. As I listened more closely, it became clear that my wife was on a group call with Bobby’s wife and possibly his mother-in-law too. The part of the conversation I overheard went something like this: “Yes, he’s on his way to the airport now. Oh yes, Bobby caught a lot! He even got one of those Slammy things. I don’t know what the big deal is, I got one too. (More giggling) No, he didn’t do as well as Bobby and me. What a grump! (Giggling continues) No, they have no idea! (Barely suppressed laughter). I know! Three months ago, all I had to do was suggest that the boat should be ready for the kids’ vacation. Then, a day or so later, I reminded him that he wasn’t supposed to lift more than 30 pounds. He took the bait hook, line and sinker! (Unrestrained laughter) He was texting Bobby the next day! And then he came to me (uncontrollable sniggering) with the excuse that he needed to service the boat immediately and really needed Bobby’s help! FOR A WEEK! What? Oh YES! He still believes he managed to sneak another fishing trip past us! (more laughter and tears) STOP! I’m going to pee my pants! (Suddenly in subdued whispers) Hey, I better go, I think he might be listening.” Stupid universe!

I gotta' go,

Doc

Mullet Bullet

Trout Ammo