Wrestled the damn thing, grease and all, into the back of the truck.  Lucky ol’ Sal is as strong as she is.

We kicked the big, dead motor up on the tilt and used the little ‘rescue’ trolling motor to get the boat over to end-of-the-road where I positioned it with the back to the beach.  Then, driving the truck down the dirt slope and onto the rocky shore and into the water just a little bit, we opened the back and pried the ‘ol’ dead pig’ off the transom.

It weighs about 200 pounds which is nothing for Sal to throw around but she needs good footing for that kind of thing and the slimy boulders of the beach meant I had to help.  So we got the engine off the transom using a 6 foot pry bar and then, slipping and sliding a few feet got it to the back of the truck where we managed to lever it into place onto the dog blanket.  A little shuffling later and we could close the back door.  Put luggage on top of the dead pig, got in and headed for town. 

A few hours and a ferry later we were at Sonny’s.  Sonny is our outboard motor repair God.  He is great.  Sonny is about my age and makes me look young, handsome and slim.  His shop is his single car garage in the old, small-house neighbourhood he lives in with his wife, Sandra.  They reside in the old part of Campbell River.  He’s a legend out here.  Been there, doing that outboard-thing for well over 25 years. 

Everyone knows Sonny. He’s got that crusty, surly nature affected by many older guys many of whom are really very nice and funny.  They just like the image, I guess.  Sonny’s one of them.  Funny, grouchy, just a great guy doing his job fairly and honestly and well.  We’d falter badly out here without the Sonnys. 

“So, what did you screw up this time?  I sure hope you didn’t try to fix something, eh?  Nothing like trying to fix something to guarantee breaking stuff.” 

“Nope.  Touched very little.  Honest.  Maybe got a bit close to the carbs but didn’t touch ém.  I swear.  Ya see, Sal drove my boat.  It was runnin’ just fine.  Then she drove it.  Then all hell broke loose.  So, ya see, t’weren’t my fault.  Not this time.” 

Sonny looks at me with narrowed eyes.  He didn’t believe a word I said but he appreciates me blaming Sal.  Like most guys he’s smitten with Sal and putting the blame on her is like pumping sunshine into his colon but he loves that kind of banter.   

“So, then what?  After Sal broke your liddle motor, poor baby!”

“Well, I did what any guy would do, eh?  I checked things out.  You know……..looked at everything a bunch o’ times and then emptied the water out of the filter.  Hadda start somewhere.  Water in the filter should be removed, right?”

“You running one o’ them new carbs that runs on water?”  I shook my head.  “Then ya done the right thing.  Then what happened?”

“Well, you know, tried a little of this, tried a little of that.  Used the battery up in the process.  Nothing would start.  So, I gave up.  Decided we were overdue for visiting you anyway.  We miss you, man.”

“Check for spark?”  “Nope.  Told ya.  By then we missed you too much to waste any time messin’ with it any longer.  Just got ourselves over here lickety split.  How ya doin, man?”

Sonny eyed me carefully.  More sunshine in all the wrong places.  “Wanna come in for a coffee?”  “Nah.  Thanks, tho.  Gotta fly.  You know how it is.  Busy, busy, busy.”  “Yeah, right.”

With the banter and the mea culpas out of the way, we sorted out the details and left Sonny to rescue us yet again.  We’ll get it Friday when we get back from town.

The weird thing is…………..we really do miss Sonny.  He’s a great guy.  And he likes Sal.  That’s for sure.