We headed out after I last wrote, looking for a lunch place in Hardeeville with “local flavor.” We landed at some sort of crabby place — the Crafty Crab? the Cozy Crab? the Crazy Crab? It was the kind of place where the waitresses call you “sweetie” and bring your beverages in 24-ounce cups, so huge you have to use two hands to lift them. And they consider macaroni and cheese a vegetable.
In the afternoon, we drove to Hilton Head to see the boat. I have a soft spot for the Carolina lowcountry, and I tend to get emotional when I start smelling salt marsh and seeing sawgrass and live oaks draped in Spanish Moss. In my old Honda Civic, I used to pop my tape of the Big Chill in when we reached the bridge, just to enhance the experience. (the Big Chill was filmed in nearby Beaufort)
On this trip, we didn’t have any CDs, so we’d been driving without music. Just as we headed over the high bridge to Hilton Head, Barry started fiddling with the radio. And then it came in, loud and clear:
JEREMIAH WAS A BULLFROG! (dunh – dunh – dunh!)
WAS A GOOD FRIEND OF MINE! (dunh – dunh – dunh!)
Never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drink his wine!
And he always had some mighty fine wine!
It was the same Three Dog Night song, Joy to the World, that’s on the Big Chill album. By the time we turned in at the marina, a few minutes later, I was super-pumped up.
Of course, that made it hard to get calm, cool, and collected before meeting the broker. It was important to be objective while looking at the boat. We spent all afternoon looking it over and making notes of our findings. More on that later…we’re still processing.
When it got dark, we left Hilton Head’s rarified atmosphere and drove back to our motel to relax. But I became decidedly un-relaxed when a cockroach meandered across the king-sized headboard. That’s when I decided: No more Knight’s Inn. Despite the fact that bugs are commonplace around here, I wanted to stay in a hotel where multi-legged critters know their place in life and do not get up on the beds.
Besides, the shower at the Knight’s Inn was a cross between torture and aversion therapy. I do not like being attacked with a pressure washer while standing in skanky water up to my shins, thank you very much. And then having to dry off with a sandpaper towel the size of a handkerchief.
So we left Hardeeville and headed south, to the Seven Seas Cruising Association annual meeting, which is sort of a sailboat cruisers’ convention. Any time two boaters get together, we talk about boats and equipment, but this event is serious — they actually have a schedule, and speakers, and a tiny exhibition hall.
While there, we stayed at my Dad’s house, which is a little paradise in Vero Beach. Lots of interesting books to read, pleasant music on the stereo, and homemade sangria in the fridge…plus a shower that makes up for the Knight’s Inn. The only problem was, Dad wasn’t home, he was in Tennessee.
In a few days, we’ll get back together with Dad, and I can’t wait to see him. Actually, I did see him today! But he was about 50 feet away…and that’s another story, part of the one that goes with the boat. Which we’ll get to eventually. We promise. We’re still processing.
We did come back to Hilton Head last night, and we’re staying at a place with a nice shower and no roaches (so far). We spent all of today on the boat with the surveyor. And we’ll tell you about that eventually. We promise. We’re still processing.