Engines and sailing don’t mix. Sure they’re useful, but their pleasure in life is to annoy me. More specifically to keep me off the water.

I’m a weekend sailor. Time out there is precious. It wouldn’t be so bad if fixes were hour affairs, but that’s just wishful thinking. One fix begats another and another.

After rebuilding the engine (I rebuilt to avoid re-engineering the “engine room”) I’m eager to sail. But wait, is that red stuff diesel? Must be a loose hose. Tighten, clean,sail. That wasn’t so bad. Next trip, more red stuff, where the heck is it coming from? Was there a spill at the polisher when engine fixed? Clean, sail. And more? OK, its got to be around the fuel tank. Inspection inconclusive (denial). Better call in the experts. Captain Woody “yep, tank leaks. Carl is the man for it”. “Yep, a pin hole leak” says he. Got to pull the tank and find a replacement. Did I mention the boat is a late 70’s model. With who knows what changes various owners thought were wise; not to mention the “it seemed like a good idea at the time” syndrome.

Step 1 turn off the bilge pumps. This is essential. Cut the wires if need be, just don’t let it accidentally start!!!

The plan was simple: measure space, measure tank, order it, while waiting pump the old tank out, remove it, dispose old diesel, install new tank, get some fuel, bleed air. Piece of cake.

Did I say this was a boat? It takes a saint or a pact with the devil for plans to pan out.

Here’s the reality: The act of measuring changes the leak’s properties. I’m sure Hiesenberg based his uncertainty principles on boat repairs. The good news is that Carl didn’t have to pump out the tank, somewhat countered by a bilge brimming with fuel. Step 1 is essential, dodged a bullet on that one.

I didn’t quite catch everything Carl said about the misbegotten sot that thought a live 110 AC line would be a good hold down strap for a fuel tank. His Aussie accent is on such occasions a bit thick.

The new tank fits perfectly – in some fantasy. Hmmm, re-engineer the stern or get a smaller one. Tough decision.

Carl mentions he found something under the old tank. He points to the treasure half buried in epoxy. A beautiful, shinny, stainless steel wood screw. How special, how thoughtful. And you thought it was a boater’s myth. One lost screw and no new sail this year. I expect he’s still laughing. Thanks guy.

Carl quickly got the upper hand; tamed the beast: a great install job.

Then its my turn.

Just to set the scene. Wife: what are you doing today? Me: I need to get fuel and make sure the engine works and blah, blah. What she hears is ‘trip to gas station – 10 minutes’.

Dispose old fuel. Check. Get new fuel, 3 gallons to lug. Check. Diesel diapers. Extra trip to West Marine. Check. Extra trips ares just a ritual to satisfy the boat repair gods. If you don’t make 3 trips or do enough time, they get annoyed.

Everything is ready, just got to bleed the air out. I’ll just start it, wait for it to stall, bleed and be done. Nothing can go wrong.

Turn her on; wait, 5 minutes goes by, then 15 minutes. Just how much fuel is in the line? I dang well know there’s air there. 35 minutes later I give up. The repair gods just playing with me. Engine passed the air by itself – I hope. Cautiously, with some anxiety ’cause its as calm a day as I’ve ever seen, I motor to the fuel dock. Been at this for 5 hours. Gotta get home.

Filled, I back her out. We’re facing west towards the open sea. The call is too strong. Up sail, engine off. Just an hour, then sail into slip. No need for an engine coming in. Come to think of it, it’d take only 20 minutes to row her out. These modern conveniences are real time savers.