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Boats are wonderful. As anon said somewhere upthread, they're mobile fortresses.
Every bolt and hose clamp and cotter pin cared for lovingly by you, hundreds of man hours in exchange for the absolute freedom of being to ramble the sea, adventuring and collecting life experiences that can bring you true fulfilment.
A beautiful windless night at anchor off some uninhabited mangrove key watching thunderstorms crackle away in the distance as bioluminescent jellyfish bob around your boat.
Surfing an 80 foot schooner down 12 foot seas as dolphins launch themselves into the troughs of the waves and you fight the helm of a ship 5 times your age to stop her from broaching.
Tacking upwind all the way home and dropping sail as your woman makes you a mug of coffee to keep you awake till you reach the mooring.
They're space ships of a sort. Little pods that you have the sole responsibility of maintaining that will (if properly cared for) see you through the nastiest conditions you've ever seen, and get you home safe and then rock you to sleep.
They'll keep you warm and dry, they'll beat the absolute piss out of you. You'll see things you never imagined. The stars a few hundred miles off shore are almost how they used to be save for the occasional intrusion of human space junk. That sense of freedom and danger is our birthright.
I heard somewhere a long time ago that an object, if lovingly tended to for long enough will gain a soul. I've met and sailed boats that caused me to believe this is true. They'll take care of you if you take care of them.
Fuck I love boats.
