They agonized about if they should bring her from the East coast. After all they remembered the story about how she came to be theirs. They saw her advertised in the paper once and were intrigued. Really? A 1959 Chris Craft Cavalier and she runs? Really? He took a drive over to see her. He saw her sitting in the driveway and he was sure that she winked at him. He did his best to look her over and kicked her tires ever so skeptically (but inside ever so gently), she already had him. He asked the price and was a bit crestfallen, but still he was smiling inside. She lingered in his mind and he kept checking the paper and thinking. One day he looked and she was gone. He took a drive by the house just to check on her. She was gone. He figured well maybe she was not meant to be. Oh well. He moped a bit but figured, well she was more expensive than they really could afford. A few weeks later she told him to look at this ad in the paper. Isn't that the same kind of boat that you saw? Wow, that is so weird. What are the chances of another 1959 CC showing up? Ah, but the tele number is different (thats an Eastern Shore number isn't it?)
You know we are going to be driving past there when we go to the beach aren't we? Short cut. She came home with them and became part of the family. She became a Round Bay regular. The sailboaters dutifully sneered a little at her but I know that inside they smiled too. Tubing, skiing, going to Annapolis for an ice cream cone with the black lab (Corbu RIP); she became dear. Fast forward, the family moved to California and brought her with them. She missed the river. They missed the river. She sat under a tarp, went into storage and she felt so dry. Years later she found a nook under the house that they had built. She was not in the water but she was finally close to them again. The son remembered the times on the river. He had the skills somehow, he had the will, he made it his summer project when he was not working to bring her back. He cleaned her. He repainted her bottom. He replaced her wiring. He convinced her engine that she could still run like the wind. He gave her the love that she always knew was there just waiting.
They drove out to the lake and lowered her down the ramp and into the water. They piled in like the old days. They waited and watched as the son turned the key. She let out a roar, a deep throaty roar. The water gurgled and sputtered. The little thumb throttle turned up and she slowly, beautifully moved forward in the water, and then not so slowly. The family smiled, the water caressed her, she winked again.....
