I walked through the gravel yard past an old ferrocement slop to the long rickety wooden dock with the first slip occupied by an old steel hulled live aboard with a captain looking to have been cast for the part, the little mahogany bow pulpit and spoon bow of a ComPac caught my eye – it was my ComPac – there she was, the most beautiful girl on the dock, and I was walking to take her hand in this dance. There she was, and she was everything I could have hoped she would be.
