When your Chitlins start to vibrate, you know big magic is afoot

I can’t tell you when this earth shattering, atmosphere tearing, chest vibrating, noise broke trough my consciousness. I guess we’ve all become immune to this sort of twenty first century noise. It’s loud, it’s annoying, it’s gone in 30 seconds. Not this stuff! It just doesn’t stop.
I’m sure that my friend Gordon would find this endlessly fascinating, being a pilot and all. But it just doesn’t stop.

Some idiot lost it, and started aiming lasers at the Navy Superhornets with real live American sons and daughters in the cockpit. He’s up for 20 years, and that’s copacetic with me.

At first being this close to fire breathing Naval warbirds a few hundred feet over head was really interesting but when the flyboys are out having fun you can’t even hear someone screaming in your ear, or the radio, or even think, and it just doesn’t stop. Last night a whole flight of F-18’s practiced the landing pattern until 11:30. Did I mention that these things are really loud? Still watching F-18’s twisting and turning in mock combat is kinda cool, but it just doesn’t stop.

I’ve spent the last few days traipsing back and forth to Norfolk to, as it turns out, replace our generator’s starter.
That sounds so easy. The sequence starts with dropping the dinghy, loading everything that we need for this trip, while carefully forgetting the one indispensable item we can’t do without.
Next, with fingers crossed, I enter the dinghy starting process. I check that the emergency stop lanyard switch is fully engaged, next open the fuel tank vent (not too much, wouldn’t want too moisture to get in, two pumps of the fuel bulb, pull out the choke, not too much, shift the gear lever into reverse and then back into neutral just to make sure (this bit may seem a little OCD but it seems to help). Lately we’ve had joy at over a 50 percent rate!

Choke partially in, gear lever in go forth and we’re off, but just. The Rudee Inlet is a no wake area so it’s slow going. In the meantime I’ve been able to charm the closest marina, some of you who know me may find this hard to believe, into allowing us to tie our dinghy up to the end of their fuel dock and fill up our water jugs. They are not used to people showing up at their docks out of the blue, asking favors and it’s “where’s your boat again?”

After tying up, it’s a six block walk to the shuttle bus, a two block walk to the express bus to Norfolk, and a mile and a half walk if your timing is off on the other end. Talk to the starter guy, reverse the process.

Still…it’s nice to come home to.

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