It had a forlorn, lost attitude. It was an older model, long outdated. The paint was scraped, faded, sun blistered and scratched. Dead bugs and field mice resided in the hidden depths of its storage spaces. Dry rot was attacking its wood parts. The metal trim, what there was of it, was tarnished. Tarnished was the kindest thing one could say. The motor, a 110hp merc, was long pass saving. A remnant of orange tarp hung off the open bow, reminding everyone who walked by of open mouth and tongue. The boat had one broken spotlight which looked the passerby right in the eye. It was leaning on its side next to a very rusted and faithful trailer which had hauled it around for many miles. The trailer had lost its running, brake and stop lights years ago. One tire was in shattered strips. The other could not be found. It reminded any potential new owner of a lost, injured, friendly animal laying next to its hurt companion. A very sad boat indeed. The boat and trailer was in line at the recycling plant to be destroyed, if no one in the current visitors group was not up to adopting it. The boat and its companion had about two hours to live.
Elmer Phud, a summer/weekend resident of Woody’s Bagels an’ Bait resort, was in the market for a boat to refurbish during the long winter months. He had decided to rebuild a boat. By doing so he could add features he would use. Not get some pre-packaged doodads he may never use. At the recycling plant, the public could adopt (buy) certain items that had been separated and categorized as maybe salvageable. “Maybe” and “salvageable” were up to interpretation. The price was just the cost of state and county paper work to do the title transfer. The county was up for just about anything that would bring in a buck or two. This program was called “Junk Adoption.” Just about everyone referred to it as “Adoption”.
“I went to the adoption at the recycle plant today,” Your neighbor might say.
“What did you get and how old was it?” You would reply.
“I got a dozy of a baby. An El Camino” your neighbor relies. “About thirty years old. And rusty? You bet it is. Rust is what makes it so charming.”
You do not want to hear just a part of this conversation. Elmer took his time looking at the boat. Thinking about the features that interested him, cost of same then balancing every thing with the cost and time it would take to finish the boat. Two years working on it part time was not out of the question. How much money would it take was the question. He wanted a boat. Elmer adopted the boat.
But how to get it home? Enter Harold (Harry) Phratry. Elmer had last seen Harry about ten years ago but had kept in touch via emails. He knew Harry was in the trucking business. He rushed home to send an email asking Harry if he had some time to help and old friend out.
Elmer: Hey old buddy. Its me, your old friend, Elmer. Look, you told me you were in the trucking business and if I needed something hauled, to give you a shout. Well, I’m shouting. I just adopted an old boat and trailer. Need help getting it home. From the recycle plant in town.
Harry: What makes you think we’re buddies? Or old friends? I told you to give me a shout because I tell everyone that. Good for business. I did not think you would do it. If the old boat and trailer is at the recycle plant why not just leave it there?
Elmer: Read all of the message, you elbow. I adopted the boat and trailer. Going to fix them up. They need to be hauled with a flatbed trailer. Bring a forklift. Neither one is in working order.
Harry: What's with this “adopted'”. Your dictionary doesn't have “bought”?
Elmer: Oh. Your junkyard (recycling plant) doesn’t have a program to adopt old junk that is still usable?
Harry: No! Junk is Junk! If it was re-usable it would be called “used”. Who’s the elbow now?
After several more emails, Harry finally agreed to help Elmer get his trailer home. Harry, after seeing what Elmer bought, was very skeptical about the boat and trailer ever becoming usable. With good cause. Elmer may not be the best handyman around machinery of any type. He once dragged home a ‘49 Chevy pickup he found along side the road. Granted, the road was in a city dump so that should have been a clue for things to come. Elmer, at the time, was a little younger so maybe he can be forgiven. It was in his garage for several years, afterwards he donated it to charity. But not without first purchasing many new aftermarket parts and failing to get all of them installed on the pickup. Time or at least money wasted. It was the desire to have a jalopy that drove him. After he donated the pick-up, he bought a custom ‘49 Chevy for not much more than the amount he spent on the one he found.
After getting the “new” adopted items home, Elmer was last seen perusing catalogs and doing research online. No doubt looking for parts. He had his bankbook handy on the side table. He was going to need it. The “adopted” items were in the backyard behind the garage.
Epilog.
The items stayed behind his garage for two years. During this time, Elmer bought tools, paint and other items to refurbish them. Somehow he never got around to doing the actual work. He donated the “adopted” items to the recycle plant, took a tax write off, then bought a very good used boat and trailer. He pulls the boat to his lake place on weekends, with his ‘49 custom jalopy.
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