Chapter 3

TYCHE .3

Mom came back 4 hours later. I had taken the Farr off the trailer and turned it over. It’s not very heavy and I understand levers, fulcrums and blocking. I had the table built (assembled), leveled and was sanding the laser burn off the edges of the frames. I thought I’d done pretty well.

When she stepped through the door, Surprise grabbed a putty-knife and slipped it into one of a multitude of spider cracks on the old boat. She gave a little twist and a two-foot by four-foot section of fiberglass and one layer of the three layer 4mm plywood popped loose and slid off the hull. It stunk. No describing the smell ... except, maybe ... really strong vinegar and mold.

“That’s why you’re building a new boat.”

“How did this happen?”

So ... she showed me the spiderweb cracks in the fiberglass from where I’d hit or clipped the can buoy by trying to ‘shave’ a little distance off the race course.

“This glass isn’t ‘big boat’ glass ... that stuff is heavy ... this is 3/4 ounce bias ply woven roving ... we laid out 2 layers ... not six or more like the bigger boats. For what we’re building ... it’s plenty good. You just can’t hit things with it.” She sighed.

“Water ... in this case ... salt water ... we built this one in New Zealand ... tends to do nasty things to wood ... and the boat is four years old and had a hard life.”

“I get it,” I said. “I practiced ... and I hit things ... I probably should have had a pram to learn on.”

She said, “Maybe ... but we went with what we had. What we had was 3.7’s. You did look so cool sailing it. You made a tiny boat look big. I know you sold at least 4 of the New Zealand boats.”

She motioned me over to the part of the hull that fell off.

She said, “Notice ... it was the plywood that failed ... the frame is still intact. Our construction held up.”

She grabbed a piece of sandpaper and started in on a new frame. “Well?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I picked up a frame half and sanded. “Sanding.”

We each sanded pieces until they were done and in order.

We unrolled vinyl sheet on the table ... the parts won’t stick to the sheet.

“Do you remember how to mix up resin?” Surprise asked.

“Yes.”

I gloved up and put on my mask. I was ready.

I laid out one cup for each full frame, pumped resin in the cups and added 1.5 percent MEKP hardener to one cup. It had been decided back in New Zealand to use polyester resin because we could wait an hour, do a second coat and paint PVA over the poly. Epoxy? One coat and wait a day.

Give it a good stir and hand the cup to mom. She brushed it on the parts. 10 minutes and she needed another cup.

The frames weren’t getting glass, just a couple of coats of resin to seal the grain against water entry. When the frames were done I pitched in and painted the spruce stringers.

We did all we could, stripped out of our safety gear and walked down to the Antler. For the first time in my life ... I ate two Wendy’s and shared a large order of white vinegar soaked fries and enjoyed every bite.

“You were hungry,” Surprise said.

“Uh huh ... and thirsty,” I chugged most of a mug of rootbeer. The Belch was most satisfying.

“Tyche!” Surprise exclaimed. “I am shocked by your lack of manners.”

Then she belched.

Frank laughed ... he was in the kitchen.

We headed back to the shop.

“Do you want to use the watch ... it’ll give us more time.”

“Not yet ... let’s see how far we get first.”

“Having all the parts cut will save time.” Mom said.

“You had to buy this?”

“Yup ... I used your card.” Surprise paused, “Signed your name too.”

“You have cabinets?”

“Yes ... no hurry.”

I have a feeling she did have a rush job but she was willing to help me ... I’ll get even someday.

Saturday, the Mexicans showed up ... by the time the day was over we had the entire skeleton done and resined.

We took the whole crew and their families to the Antler.

“Whose idea was this?” Mom asked.

Maria tootled her fingers.

She ran the office. When did she learn boat work?