Years ago my dad and my grandfather bought a 22’ sailboat. I really liked sailing with them. It is definitely a cool feeling when your wind-powered boat is going faster than some other gasoline-powered boats .
When we went sailing, we liked to have 3 people on the boat. With three people, one person could be at the tiller, one person at the sails, and one person free to relax, or get drinks/snacks below decks without anybody else having to drop what they are doing. Of course, as my dad and grandfather got more confident in their sailing abilities, they figured 2 people was perfectly fine if they couldn’t find a third person to come along.
One day my dad and I went sailing together. I was about twelve at the time. All I can remember is that I was a pretty crappy sailor My dad would have me operate the sails, giving me specific instructions (“pull that line. Now let that line go slack.”). When we would get back to the marina to put the boat on the trailer, my dad would use the outboard motor to slowly navigate through rows of lined up boats (it was basically like a parking lot only with boats). At this point he would have me steer, so that he could take the sails down. That way, the boat would be more or less ready for transit when we got it to the ramp, and we could just get it on the trailer and drive home.
My job was to keep the boat on a straight course while my dad took the sails down. The boat started to veer to one side, so I tried compensating by turning in the other direction. But for some reason, the boat wouldn’t turn, and we were slowly, SLOWLY on a collision course with a moored boat which was actually occupied by its owners :eek: I told my dad, “uhhh, dad? I need help”. My dad was busy struggling to stuff some sails into a bag, and kind of angrily blew me off at first. I started panicking, and shouted, “DAD! WE’RE GOING TO CRASH!”. In reaction to this, he turned around to see what I was yelling about, and saw a row of boats looming directly ahead of us (at this point our sailboat somehow managed to turn 90 degrees on a head-on collision…I have no idea what caused this as I was trying to turn AWAY from the moored boats as best as I could). I couldn’t see the expression on my dad’s face, but it must have resembled the expression of the passengers of the moored boat, a kind of deer-in-the-headlights stare. My dad and the other passengers kind of just stared blankly at each other for one looooong second, them my dad screamed, “SHIT!”, dashed across the deck, grabbed the motor controls (it was a tiller-like thing, not a wheel), put the motor in reverse and gunned it as hard as he could to slow us down, while try to maneuver away from the moored boats. In the panic, I was sitting in such a position that made it hard for my dad to control the boat, and he was screaming, “MOVE, MOVE!” and I was in such a panic that I literally ‘froze up’, I couldn’t think, or act, or do anything, so my dad grabbed me by the life jacket and kind of threw me across the cockpit to get me out of the way. Our boat kept moving toard the moored boat, albeit slower, with the other passengers gawking in horror at us. We did hit them, though it was only with the gentlest of nudges, before my dad got things under control and continued on our way.
Aftewards, I felt really terrible and was convinced I’d never set foot on my dad’s boat again. But my dad was pretty cool about it and laughed it off, and his only regret was that he didn’t look up sooner to help me.