They say the two happiest days in a boat owner's life are the day of purchase and the day of sale. That might be true. As grim as he’d been on the drive out to Mukilteo, braced for a misanthropy-inducing negotiation with “Tom” from Facebook Marketplace, whose listing for the 1959 Canby PT blared in all-caps “BEST OFFER! LET’S MAKE A DEAL!” he’d been happy as a fool for every minute of the four-hour drive back, grinning and hopping around in the front seat of his Ford F-150 as the boat—salmon pink and cement grey—rode in the trailer behind him. And while he wouldn’t presume to predict the future, when if ever, he’d sell the thing and, as such, couldn’t even begin to guess whether he would feel as happy then as he did when he first took the Canby PT home five years ago (six?), he’d always believed that “Tom” was pleased with his side of the transaction: the way he thumbed through the short stack of hundred-dollar bills he’d received in exchange for the boat with series of approving grunts, swatting his open palm with the wad of cash, once, twice, again, before they hitched the Canby PT and its trailer to their new owner’s truck and exchanged a few half-sentences of good luck and farewell... That didn’t really prove the saying was true, he’d admit, since he allowed his and “Tom’s" separate yet simultaneous joy as buyer and seller to count for both of the saying’s occasions of satisfaction when he knew it was supposed to be a “saying for one”. But that’s the thing about sayings: they don’t always mean for you to do something or think something specific. Sometimes they are just words to keep you humble in the face of happiness.

Story coming in October...