LOCAL COLOR

Pass it almost every day in Nantucket Harbor. It stands out like a gift from a seagull on a black limousine. I do not know to whom it belongs and I never see it under way. It must be used sometimes because the interior is almost dry even when it rains cats and dogs. I used to have a boat like this one when I was younger and we vacationed in Sag Harbor in the 50s. It reminds me of that old Alan Jackson Country song "When Daddy Let me Drive" and the sense of being a grown up that came with getting into your own conveyance and leaving the shore under your own power. This was long before I drove a car or even had my own bicycle. And I remember it to this day. It did not have a motor at all except for my young arms but the feeling was the same as below....

It was painted red
It's stripe was white
It was 18 feet
From the bow to the stern light
2nd hand from a dealer in Atlanta
I rode up with daddy
When he went there to get her
Put on a shine
Put on a motor
Built out of love
And made for water
Ran it for years
Till the transom got rotten
A piece of my childhood that'll never be forgotten
It was, just an old plywood boat
75 johnson with electric choke
A young boy, two hands on the wheel
I can't replace the way it made me feel
And I would turn it shore line, and, make it wide
He'd say, ya can't beat the way an old wood boat rides
Just a little lake across the Alabama line
But I was king of the ocean, when daddy let me drive