Mo-Mo No Mo
The Stooges hate motors, especially
Fred (Moe) who’s favorite saying is: “We don’t need no stinkin motor.” Our 3.5
hp Tohatsu has been a general PITA ever since we’ve owned it. Last year John
(Skippy) cleaned and overhauled the carburetor at least 3 times and the engine
still didn’t run right. So at the end of the season as the boat was on the
trailer going to the garlic barn for the winter, John volunteered to take the
motor to a real outboard shop and get it fixed.
Cut
to: Spring, three weeks out from the first race of the season.
“John, how’s the motor doing?” “I just
took it into the shop. It’ll be ready.”
Cut
to: Two days before the first race
“John, we’re gonna splash the boat
tomorrow. Where’s the motor?” “I’ll check.”
Cut
to: John on phone from his office
“Oh, yeah, we lost the hard sheet for
that motor and didn’t know what to do with it.” “I need that motor TOMORROW!”
“OK, no problem, pick it up around noon.”
Cut
to: Interior of shop around noon the following day
“That’s not our motor. Our motor is
over there untouched.” “Really? I could have sworn you said it was this one
over the phone. OK, I can have yours running in 30 minutes. Oh, and by the way,
that’s the cleanest carburetor I’ve every seen on one of these motors!” “Yeah,
thanks.” Grumble, grumble.
At this point John calls Fred (sigh),
and Fred brings his heavy 4+ hp motor down to the boat. We step the mast and
after about 15 pulls, Fred gets the motor to fire. Close call. Up to McCuddy’s
we go. Fred has to dash because of the Sailor’s Dinner at PYC. John shows up
about a half hour later with our motor. “Runs like a top. Tested it at all the
power settings and ran it for about 20 minutes.” “Yeah, right.” Stooges don’t
trust motors.
Rather than swap out motors, we decide
to just stow our motor since Fred’s was still on the back of the boat and he
was already gone home to change.
Cut
to: Saturday Morning
We arrive early. Rig the boat. Head
out. Fred’s heavy motor is running fine. Out on the course the breeze is up and
dark clouds are rolling in. First gun goes off, and we’re 5th start.
Plenty of time. John goes to turn off the motor. “Who put this motor on the
boat? The mounting screws were so loose that the motor almost was about to
bounce off the engine mount!” Crisis averted. Bad boy, Curley, bad boy.
So now with the motor turned off, John
goes to pull it up out of the water, but the engine mount bracket is stuck.
Pull. Push. Wiggle. Say bad words. Turn the boat into the breeze. Flog the
sails to slow down. Waves everywhere from all the salmon fishermen roaring
through the fleet to their special salmon holes. Boat bouncing up and down. Motor
no move. Drift down river.
Fred’s turn. Pull. Push. Wiggle. Say
bad words. Turn the boat into the breeze. Flog the sails to slow down. Boat
bouncing up and down. Finally the motor comes up. Mumble, mumble, “How the heck
to I tilt this motor out of the water?” Mumble, mumble. Bad words. “Must be
this…shit, shit, oh shit!” Motor drops back down. “I hate motors.” Reach back
over the stern. Pull. Push. Wiggle. Say bad words. Turn the boat into the
breeze. Flog the sails to slow down. Boat bouncing up and down. Motor no move.
Keep drifting downriver.
Curley’s turn. Get screw driver and
channel locks. Lay on deck. Reach over stern. Say nice words to motor mount.
Use screwdriver as lever. Motor comes up. Lock in place. Tilt motor. Sail back
upriver to start line and barely make it before the gun. Stooges still hate
motors.
Cut
to: End of day at dock.
Carnage of broken boom in M. Bennett’s
boat laying on the dock. Stooges glad the only thing we broke in the 37 kt gust
was a block on the clew of the jib. “Let’s get my motor off and up to my car.”
“I’ll go get us a cart.”
John comes back with a three wheeled
wonder cart. He puts Fred’s motor in the basket. Our Pineapple cruising jib goes
on top of that. Michelle’s wet spinnaker that we borrowed was next. And on top,
John’s sea bag. Off he goes to get everything up to the parking lot. Fred and I
stay to give Captain Obvious observations to Michelle about her boom. I turn
around after some particularly obvious comment and glance toward the end of the
dock just as John hits a bump and his sea bag bounces off the cart on to the
dock. He stops, lets go of the cart, turns around to pick up his bag, and while
his back is turned, in slow motion, the cart begins rolling to the edge.
“JO-O-H-H-N-N-N!” Too late. As he turns
back sea bag in hand, the cart, the motor, the sail, and the spinnaker tip over
the edge into the water. The motor and cart sink immediately. Spinnaker bag
floats down toward next dock finger. Pineapple yellow sausage bag begins to
sink. In a minute, it’s gone too. We run over and capture the floating
spinnaker. Shock. Disbelief. The mo-mo is no mo. It’s down under 10 feet of
moving Columbia river. Maybe a diver can find it tomorrow. Stooges hate motors.
Cut
to: PYC over drinks.
“John, thank you.” “For what!” “This
afternoon with the great cart fiasco you managed two incredible accomplishments
in one fell swoop. First, you have kept the Stooges reputation and legacy
intact for at least another year. And two, on the first day of the season you
have set such a high bar for anyone who wants the ‘Whoops!’ trophy at next
spring’s awards banquet that you are just about guaranteed to be the winner.”
“Oh, great…Did I tell you that I fucking hate motors.”
Fade
to black
