Yesterday, on the 107th anniversary of Orville and Wilbur Wright's fabled first flight on the North Carolina coast, I went to the local chandlery to pick up a few assorted items needed to rig up roller furling for the jib. It turns out the furling unit I had ordered came "complete with" a long list of other required items--line, shackles, fairleads, cam-cleat, and mounting hardware for each.
I usually try to spend the Wright Brothers' flight anniversary doing something fun, and I thought this project would be fun. Besides, it was the first (and last) dry day for a good long while, so I would be able to wheel the trailered boat out onto the driveway and raise the mast and stare up at things without needing windshield wipers for my glasses.
Shopping at the chandlery was a slow grind. Oh, here's a cam cleat. Oh, it mounts with what kind of fasteners? Metric measurements provided. But the store's fasteners have imperial-measurement fasteners only. Or were they labeled both ways? Who could make sense of those labels, anyway? And ... wait, how thick is the bow thwart (through which I planned to fasten the cleat), and therefore what length of these imperially labeled machine screws did I need?
Wait, was that a plain stainless ring I needed for the swivel or the furling unit? Would this shackle work instead?
My confusion progressed. As I neared paralysis, a diversion emerged. A middle-aged woman entered the store, began looking around, and then spoke to the proprietor. "My nephew just got a Hobie Cat."
What, around here? Does your newphew know the water is 45 degrees F. out there right now? Does he want to go sailing in a dry suit?
"And we want to get him a gift. What would go with a Hobie Cat?"
"What size Hobie is it?" asked the proprietor. The woman didn't know, so the proprietor glanced around, then suggested a PFD. And then explained what a PFD is. They discussed pricing, and the woman offered that she was planning to spend "about ten dollars."
I looked around at the proprietor, trying to keep a poker face. He glanced at me, then glanced away. He's a pro, and he didn't bat an eye at the customer. "Hmmmm."
The woman picked up a cheap shackle designed for anchoring. "This looks good. Would it work with a Hobie?" The proprietor explained that Hobies don't do much anchoring, then discussed the cost of other types of shackles.
I stood there with my handful of fastener bits, my muddle temporarily replaced by a worldly sense of superior knowledge in at least one of life's arenas: the preposterously high cost of anything remotely connected with boats. Ten dollars would buy a few stainless nuts and bolts -- metric or imperial.
I wondered where the woman would have been shopping had her nephew just taken a job as a nuclear physicist. What kind of reactor fuel can you get for $10?
Ultimately, the woman left with a T-shirt ($29, on sale for $19). I left with a single item -- a clevis pin which later turned out to be the wrong size -- and my muddle.
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