Doberwoman makes no secret as to how she feels about Das Boot. Bad enough that she has to play second fiddle to Trophy Wife, but to play 3rd fiddle to a hunk of fiberglass floating the water must be next to intolerable. Recently, any time I take #3 down to the harbor to check on #2, she refuses to come aboard. But Doberwoman is making the most of the present situation, demanding outings as in many venues as possible. This weekend the two of us hit all the local spots in Nature's great cathedral.
While Doberwoman was swimming her laps in the harbor, my fleet was enjoying a rather long-ish race on the other side of the breakwater. We followed the swimming by walking down to Das Boot to check on the de-humidifier, and encountered Diesel Guy installing new fuel injectors. That was a plus. Progress! After the race, I hung out a little with the guys just for one beer. It was fun with 'the lads' swapping lies and even telling some of my own. But I wasn't out there with them and felt too much like a want-a-be camp follower to hang out any more. But I missed it. A steady 8-9 knots wasn't exactly a great day for Das Boot, performance-wise. Still, doesn't it beat being ashore? But it would have been a great Wyliecat-30 day. There: I said it!