I'm so happy to be a part of the WellcraftV20.com 
-Phil
And I'd like to say hello and introduce myself to the forum.
Below is a story about my boating experiences growing up and some reminiscing. If you find that stuff boring, then skip the part after my signature... or it will definitely bore you!!
I will soon be joining the Wellcraft V20 club, as I have agreed to purchase a member's boat listed here, and I am thrilled. It will be my first salt water boat, and I am especially honored to be taking charge of a V20 that has been used, cared for and cherished by a family as it was shared with their children and grand children.
Sincerely,
Philip Brown
Arlington, VA
-----------------My Boating History --------------
I've been boating for about 40 year when, as a young teenage,r my dad came home from an auction with our very first boat.
*** FIRST BOAT ***
It was an 11 foot aluminum hull with an old Johnson motor -- and boy was I excited. That thing smoked, was hard to start, and seemed to break from day one -- but it didn't matter. It was a boat! That boat saw it's demise when one summer day after work we were all loaded up in the 1976 Chrysler town and country station wagon (Blue, with the fake wood sides that were really stickers... and the huge 440 engine) towing the boat to a local lake for some evening waterskiing.
Sitting a red light, someone's happy hour had gotten the better of him, and he rear-ended the boat trailer. We all got out after the crash, and I saw the motor mangled, the transom caved in and oil leaking everywhere. Even though I thought I was tough at all of probably 12 yrs old -- the tears and sobs just started flowing! I knew I wouldn't be skiing that day, and sitting at a picnics table with the family eating food and drinking whatever mom had prepared -- and knowing how deliberate and conservative my father was, I figured that the chances were slim that I'd see any more boating for the rest of that season -- (Dad was a saver, and he believed in modesty, sacrifice and having to wait for things... not rushing out. It was part of his character, and something that I believe he worked to intentionally instill as a value in his children. Yes, you could get it now, but you have to wait, and he has to save more money first. That's just the way he was, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If you always spend 10% more than you earn, you'll never have enough money, but If you're always able to save 20% of what you earn, if you're lucky, you may never feel pressed about money... although you may not be able to buy whatever you want, when you want it).
The driver was like a one of those silly drunk - driver cartoons. Only he was trembling because he hit a boat behind a family in a station wagon, and the skinny young-ish kid could stop crying and sobbing.
Nothing was hurt, other than my excitement and joy -- and even though I said I was fine, the police still called the paramedics and insisted that they check me out to ensure I was OK.
This was a different time, so no-one mentioned the state of the other driver, and the police and everyone gave him a pass. I still don't judge the guy or think ill of him. It was more like... he probably had a few too many at happy hour after work, and probably didn't notice the boat sitting at the red light.
*** SECOND BOAT ****
The next year, dad came home with an 11 foot fiberglass boat with a 40 HP Evinrude outboard for the 1940's or 50's. We didn't know the year, and didn't care. It was all white, and it was FIBERGLASS!!! High-tech stuff for us, and wow, 40 HP. That engine took pre-mix. It smoked. It had no charging system and the battery seemed to always die. The boat was stern-heavy and the previous owner had somehow bolted a piece of plywood on the transom to keep water from flowing in over the stern, which sometimes worked effectively... and boy did we love that boat!
Water in the boat was no problem. Once we got up on plane, dad would tell me to climb over the seats and pull the drain plug. We put it in on the inside the of the boat, so that you could pull the plug and let it drain out while underway. Once it was dry, we were good and cruising!
It sometimes struggled to pull us up on skiis, but through grit and determination, I would hold my breath, suck it up and hang in there until I either got up, or swallowed enough water that I had to let go, cough and choke a bit, and then try again.
Those were more simple times. Cell phones didn't exist. Heck, cordless phones for your house were still a novelty -- I don't think we had one yet -- and the were big, with an extendable antenna, and even though they had buttons, they still were pulse-dial. Touch-tone was a luxury and a feature that few cordless phones supported.
I was still you and skinny, and motor was big and bulky. No power trim here. You had to release a lever to unlock the motor, and then heave to lift it up, and then push in a pin on the side to keep the motor up. That's how you got into shallow water, and that's how you got it back on the trailer. Oh... and you always had to carry pliers, a screw driver and an extra cotter pin, in case you hit something and cotter pin broke... you could paddle in to shore, replace the pin, and at least make it home, depending on how badly the prop was dinged up!
I wasn't allowed to take the boat out by myself, because dad said I was too little to raise the engine by myself, so I couldn't really handle the boat.
One day... over dad's objections... as we were coming in, I quickly climbed over the seats, put one foot on each side of the transom, grabbed the back of the motor with both hands, and thrust my self back, heaving, pushing with my legs, and mustering every ounce of strength that my seventy-something pound body could muster.
After a standoff of five seconds or so, the stubborn thing started to rise, and before I know it, I had won! The motor came up, and I was able to carefully do a triple Lindy (google it -- it's awesome!) and managed to push in the pin with my foot. Viola! I had raised the motor by my self.
Dad didn't believe it. Mom didn't want me to strain myself and get a hernia.
All I wanted was to be allowed to take the boat out by myself.
The next day... over objections... I ran down to the dock (we were staying at a lake house)... I untied the boat, pushed off into deep water and lowered and locked the motor down... then unlocked and raised it, pushing in the pin with my foot to keep it up.
I repeated this feat about a dozen times, as my parents yelled to me from the shore to stop before I got hurt, and come back in. I paddled in and said... see, I can raise and lower the motor as much as I needed.
That evening mom and dad talked it over, and the next morning they said OK... I could take the boat out by my self... but I had to let them know and I had to be careful, and I had to make sure I was paying attention always to safety and didn't hit any rocks.
Bingo! Nirvana!!! How much fun was that! A pre-teen, who could fire up the speed boat at will, and go full throttle, racing around the lake as much as I wanted... at least until we got low on gas!
It was a rocky New England lake, with shallow points, a couple of small islands and one cove where the shallowest part was right in the middle of one cove.
What Dad hand't internalized is that I had spend countless hours, over days and weeks, drifting around in a row boat, and regularly dropping a half-cinderblock down to the bottom on a rope, counting the number of knots that were tied one foot apart. That's right.... I was a human depth sounder, and I had figured out the deep and shallow parts of almost every square inch of that lake. I was determined that if I ever got to drive the power boat solo, that I would NEVER hit a rock... as I know that it would not only mess up the boat, it would also mean that I could never drive solo again.
Ah... if only this never-hit-a-rock skill had carried over into adulthood, when I had my own boats and paid for my own repairs! I can't tell you how many times I've screwed up as an adult and thought... well, that just cost me a couple hundred bucks or maybe even a grand or more!
My father got a case of one-footitis, where it seemed that every year or two he came home with a new-to-us boat that was just a little bigger and just a little nicer.
**** We have arrived *****
One year he told me that he bought a really nice boat at auction -- and sold the old one.
Dad came home with a big blue boat. It was a 19 foot Galaxy bow rider with a Mercury I/0 V4.
Wow! No more pre-mixing... and good fuel economy too. Plus, while the boat wasn't the fastest, it had so much weight that it pulled me up on skis effortlessly -- even with only one ski!
I never did learn to barefoot ski -- our boats were never fast enough -- although I think that I would have been able to pull it off. I tried many-a-time while on one ski to put my feet out, and test the waters barefoot. A couple of times, it seemed solid, and I even tried, dropping the other ski, and going for it, heels first. A few times I got a little bit of skid, but it always ended with a bad tumble, water up my nose, and my dad telling me not to try it again because he didn't want me to get hurt.
As an adult, I don't even want to try barefoot skiing. Ouch. The tumbles aren't fun, plus WHY would you want to do that? My favorite ski is a recreational slalom ski called the "big daddy"... it's long and wide, so it doesn't tire me out as I almost "surf" on it behind the boat! (hehe!)
(Continued....)
-Phil
And I'd like to say hello and introduce myself to the forum.
Below is a story about my boating experiences growing up and some reminiscing. If you find that stuff boring, then skip the part after my signature... or it will definitely bore you!!
I will soon be joining the Wellcraft V20 club, as I have agreed to purchase a member's boat listed here, and I am thrilled. It will be my first salt water boat, and I am especially honored to be taking charge of a V20 that has been used, cared for and cherished by a family as it was shared with their children and grand children.
Sincerely,
Philip Brown
Arlington, VA
-----------------My Boating History --------------
I've been boating for about 40 year when, as a young teenage,r my dad came home from an auction with our very first boat.
*** FIRST BOAT ***
It was an 11 foot aluminum hull with an old Johnson motor -- and boy was I excited. That thing smoked, was hard to start, and seemed to break from day one -- but it didn't matter. It was a boat! That boat saw it's demise when one summer day after work we were all loaded up in the 1976 Chrysler town and country station wagon (Blue, with the fake wood sides that were really stickers... and the huge 440 engine) towing the boat to a local lake for some evening waterskiing.
Sitting a red light, someone's happy hour had gotten the better of him, and he rear-ended the boat trailer. We all got out after the crash, and I saw the motor mangled, the transom caved in and oil leaking everywhere. Even though I thought I was tough at all of probably 12 yrs old -- the tears and sobs just started flowing! I knew I wouldn't be skiing that day, and sitting at a picnics table with the family eating food and drinking whatever mom had prepared -- and knowing how deliberate and conservative my father was, I figured that the chances were slim that I'd see any more boating for the rest of that season -- (Dad was a saver, and he believed in modesty, sacrifice and having to wait for things... not rushing out. It was part of his character, and something that I believe he worked to intentionally instill as a value in his children. Yes, you could get it now, but you have to wait, and he has to save more money first. That's just the way he was, and it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If you always spend 10% more than you earn, you'll never have enough money, but If you're always able to save 20% of what you earn, if you're lucky, you may never feel pressed about money... although you may not be able to buy whatever you want, when you want it).
The driver was like a one of those silly drunk - driver cartoons. Only he was trembling because he hit a boat behind a family in a station wagon, and the skinny young-ish kid could stop crying and sobbing.
Nothing was hurt, other than my excitement and joy -- and even though I said I was fine, the police still called the paramedics and insisted that they check me out to ensure I was OK.
This was a different time, so no-one mentioned the state of the other driver, and the police and everyone gave him a pass. I still don't judge the guy or think ill of him. It was more like... he probably had a few too many at happy hour after work, and probably didn't notice the boat sitting at the red light.
*** SECOND BOAT ****
The next year, dad came home with an 11 foot fiberglass boat with a 40 HP Evinrude outboard for the 1940's or 50's. We didn't know the year, and didn't care. It was all white, and it was FIBERGLASS!!! High-tech stuff for us, and wow, 40 HP. That engine took pre-mix. It smoked. It had no charging system and the battery seemed to always die. The boat was stern-heavy and the previous owner had somehow bolted a piece of plywood on the transom to keep water from flowing in over the stern, which sometimes worked effectively... and boy did we love that boat!
Water in the boat was no problem. Once we got up on plane, dad would tell me to climb over the seats and pull the drain plug. We put it in on the inside the of the boat, so that you could pull the plug and let it drain out while underway. Once it was dry, we were good and cruising!
It sometimes struggled to pull us up on skiis, but through grit and determination, I would hold my breath, suck it up and hang in there until I either got up, or swallowed enough water that I had to let go, cough and choke a bit, and then try again.
Those were more simple times. Cell phones didn't exist. Heck, cordless phones for your house were still a novelty -- I don't think we had one yet -- and the were big, with an extendable antenna, and even though they had buttons, they still were pulse-dial. Touch-tone was a luxury and a feature that few cordless phones supported.
I was still you and skinny, and motor was big and bulky. No power trim here. You had to release a lever to unlock the motor, and then heave to lift it up, and then push in a pin on the side to keep the motor up. That's how you got into shallow water, and that's how you got it back on the trailer. Oh... and you always had to carry pliers, a screw driver and an extra cotter pin, in case you hit something and cotter pin broke... you could paddle in to shore, replace the pin, and at least make it home, depending on how badly the prop was dinged up!
I wasn't allowed to take the boat out by myself, because dad said I was too little to raise the engine by myself, so I couldn't really handle the boat.
One day... over dad's objections... as we were coming in, I quickly climbed over the seats, put one foot on each side of the transom, grabbed the back of the motor with both hands, and thrust my self back, heaving, pushing with my legs, and mustering every ounce of strength that my seventy-something pound body could muster.
After a standoff of five seconds or so, the stubborn thing started to rise, and before I know it, I had won! The motor came up, and I was able to carefully do a triple Lindy (google it -- it's awesome!) and managed to push in the pin with my foot. Viola! I had raised the motor by my self.
Dad didn't believe it. Mom didn't want me to strain myself and get a hernia.
All I wanted was to be allowed to take the boat out by myself.
The next day... over objections... I ran down to the dock (we were staying at a lake house)... I untied the boat, pushed off into deep water and lowered and locked the motor down... then unlocked and raised it, pushing in the pin with my foot to keep it up.
I repeated this feat about a dozen times, as my parents yelled to me from the shore to stop before I got hurt, and come back in. I paddled in and said... see, I can raise and lower the motor as much as I needed.
That evening mom and dad talked it over, and the next morning they said OK... I could take the boat out by my self... but I had to let them know and I had to be careful, and I had to make sure I was paying attention always to safety and didn't hit any rocks.
Bingo! Nirvana!!! How much fun was that! A pre-teen, who could fire up the speed boat at will, and go full throttle, racing around the lake as much as I wanted... at least until we got low on gas!
It was a rocky New England lake, with shallow points, a couple of small islands and one cove where the shallowest part was right in the middle of one cove.
What Dad hand't internalized is that I had spend countless hours, over days and weeks, drifting around in a row boat, and regularly dropping a half-cinderblock down to the bottom on a rope, counting the number of knots that were tied one foot apart. That's right.... I was a human depth sounder, and I had figured out the deep and shallow parts of almost every square inch of that lake. I was determined that if I ever got to drive the power boat solo, that I would NEVER hit a rock... as I know that it would not only mess up the boat, it would also mean that I could never drive solo again.
Ah... if only this never-hit-a-rock skill had carried over into adulthood, when I had my own boats and paid for my own repairs! I can't tell you how many times I've screwed up as an adult and thought... well, that just cost me a couple hundred bucks or maybe even a grand or more!
My father got a case of one-footitis, where it seemed that every year or two he came home with a new-to-us boat that was just a little bigger and just a little nicer.
**** We have arrived *****
One year he told me that he bought a really nice boat at auction -- and sold the old one.
Dad came home with a big blue boat. It was a 19 foot Galaxy bow rider with a Mercury I/0 V4.
Wow! No more pre-mixing... and good fuel economy too. Plus, while the boat wasn't the fastest, it had so much weight that it pulled me up on skis effortlessly -- even with only one ski!
I never did learn to barefoot ski -- our boats were never fast enough -- although I think that I would have been able to pull it off. I tried many-a-time while on one ski to put my feet out, and test the waters barefoot. A couple of times, it seemed solid, and I even tried, dropping the other ski, and going for it, heels first. A few times I got a little bit of skid, but it always ended with a bad tumble, water up my nose, and my dad telling me not to try it again because he didn't want me to get hurt.
As an adult, I don't even want to try barefoot skiing. Ouch. The tumbles aren't fun, plus WHY would you want to do that? My favorite ski is a recreational slalom ski called the "big daddy"... it's long and wide, so it doesn't tire me out as I almost "surf" on it behind the boat! (hehe!)
(Continued....)
and if you didn't read this far, it's fine. It's only the musings of a 50+ year old guy, realizing that while I may get older, I never have to actually grow up. Cheers everyone!! 
