There's an empty space tucked into the woods at the top of our driveway. For nearly two decades, that space has been filled with an amazing little fourteen foot aluminum fishing boat on a simple trailer. It had always been my dream to own a little fishing boat, but we weren't in a position to really do it. That all changed when we got a small inheritance after Nana died. We decided that we would take that money and buy the fishing boat I had always wanted.
I searched the newspapers diligently until I found a 1965 Lone aluminum boat. She had been painted in a rough camo pattern that had long ago faded into subtle shades of gray. She sat on a rather decrepit old homemade trailer.
She was beautiful.
I still remember the day we hooked her up to the back of the car and took her home.
We christened her, "That's Nice," because it was something Nana commonly said. Whether you told her about your day or you shared your thoughts and dreams, her standard reply was, "That's nice." Nana never said a bad word about anyone. Her response to things she wasn't all that excited about was typically her standard, "That's Nice."
We all agreed that naming our boat That's Nice was an appropriate way to remember and honor Nana.
That's Nice was so much more than a simple fishing boat. It was a memory making machine.
I bought an old, small outboard and our family began making deposits in the bank of memories. We'd fish and we'd ride around in our beautiful little boat. The boys were ecstatic when we'd buzz across the lake and I'd suddenly spin in a tight circle to pop us back over our own wake and make the boat rock and jump. It doesn't take much to make a 14 foot aluminum boat rock and jump.
Sometimes, we would tie a rope onto the back of the boys' life jackets and they would jump (or be thrown) overboard and swim around until it came time to drag them back inside and head for shore.
Through the years, we upgraded the outboard and trailer and equipped her with a locator and other accessories. No matter what we did with everything around the boat, though, the old aluminum hull was a constant.
The boys interests changed as they grew older. Joseph would go fishing with me once or twice a season. He was only happy when we put the boat over a large school of tiny panfish that would immediately bite on virtually anything he threw out there. He would catch dozens of fish in a short time. While Joseph did some fishing, our time in the boat was mostly spent just talking. Once the bite tapered off, it was time to go home.
Matthew, on the other hand, would spend hours in the boat; casting and retrieving with the hope and expectation that the next cast would catch the big one. We drifted down rivers and motored around lakes in pursuit of bass, walleye, northerns or perch. It didn't really matter if the fish were biting or not; we were in the boat and we were together.
I hoped that those days would last forever.
I knew, of course, that they couldn't and they wouldn't.
The boys grew up. Their lives moved on and they moved away.
I would look at That's Nice as I came up the drive; thinking I should get her out again, but there were always other things that needed my time and attention.
So she sat.
I knew I should just sell her since I wasn't using her, but I couldn't bring myself to let her go. There were just too many memories piled up in that old aluminum hull. Too many hours of laughter and joy.
Last week, my seemingly rational thoughts took over and I listed her on Craigslist and the Facebook Marketplace. I had several inquiries almost immediately, but they wanted to split her up and buy the outboard only.
Then came THE EMAIL.
Hello,
I saw your boat posted on
Craigslist. I am interested in seeing it. I am in Mukwonago and can stop by
before noon today (5/16), before 10am tomorrow (5/17) or Friday morning.
Please let me know if any of those
times work for you.
Thank you.
That started a string of emails that led to me taking the boat to the launch at Phantom Lake so he could see her running.
He told me about his family, and how his kids were so excited to get a fishing boat. He told me he'd been looking for about a year but couldn't find one in their price range with an engine nearly as new and nice as hers.
He made an offer.
We shook hands and agreed to meet Friday afternoon at the bank to complete the transaction.
Part of me regretted it right away, but I honored our deal.
I got all of the paperwork together and marked up some lake maps for some of our favorite fishing spots.
I fought back tears as I hooked her up to the back of my truck for one last time and headed to the bank. We went over everything and I unhooked her and drove away.
A new family is making memories with her now.
So now there is an empty spot tucked into the woods at the top of our driveway and a cavernous hole in my heart.
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