Chapter 2

I was right, they weren’t happy. It might have gone better if I hadn’t come right out and said it.

“I’m gone in two weeks.”

I held up my hand.

“You need to decide who gets to run this cabinet shop. I know who I think should be in charge but I’m not saying, this is up to y’all.”

Hell of a time for the back-hills southern accent ... Frogmorton is Frogmorton. It don’t get much farther back of beyond than that.

“Go huddle up. I’ve just gotten orders for cabinets and doors for a whole damn boat and I need to have a look at the hulls.”

I stepped out through the high pressure door, took off my gloves and shop shoes and stripped out of my white hooded coverall. The rules are the same as Auckland. The shoes go in my cleaner and the rest goes in the dumpster outside the outer doors ... new suit every-time.

The ‘glas shop has similar rules but the guys in there get to keep their suits for a week. They get Tyvek ... I get local made. They’re cheap ... less than $50 a box of 25. Buy a thousand and they’re a buck each.

At the ‘glas shop, I dressed in a “visitor’s suit.” An honest to god 3M premium grade white Tyvek with all the bells and whistles ... gloves, hard sole no skid booties and ‘the’ full face mask with the “paintshop” filters.

The shop lead man recognized me as I came through the pressure doors. It’s not the color of the suit ... it’s the size ... small ... and the bust inside the suit ... large. These suits are for the pre-teen children of clients. Not many have my endowments. One could say I stretch the chest area to bursting.

(I firmly believe the suit quality and the difficulty of wearing it keeps client visitation to ONCE. Temperature inside the suit can easily top 50C. (122f) Sweat pools at the wrist, waist and ankles.)

“Hello Mel. Come to see the new 47?”

You need to understand ... the mask that the employees of the ‘glas shop wear muffles and mangles Australian English (an iffy proposition in the first place) to that of a Scots resident of Auld Reekie (Edinburgh) It’s something one has to get immersed in over time.

“Aye.”

On the way back to the wayback we exchange pleasantries. I ask about his wife and teen children and he asks after mine. My single condition is a bone of contention often chewed by the wives of the employees. I have no idea how many “uncles,” sons, brothers I have had paraded for my perusal. None interest me.

The moulds have been prepped and layup has already begun. The moulds are HUGE. The modules for the interior are being laid up at the same time as the hulls. Nida core. Just what I wanted to see.

I thank the lead-man, apologize for taking up his time and I’m back at the office with the plans in hand. Thank what ever gods there be that the boat is production ... a 47. The interior is one hundred percent Nida honeycomb. That’s what I want for my refit. Nida core will knock off five to eight thousand pounds in top weight.

You know ... even people with money have dreams. I’d been designing my dream interior for five years. I can afford it now I’m going to have it done. Strip off everything to the cross-beams and have her the way I want. No more fancy wood or square corners ... no heavy countertops. Outside and inside galleys ... two steering stations-port and starboard. Single station in the saloon ... in case of inclement weather. Four staterooms. Five heads, one up ... four down. No more rushing below for “island” food inconveniences. Although one doesn’t often find Montezuma’s Revenge outside of Mexico ... it does happen and running below and hoping you make it isn’t the most fun thing.