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Magic was not my wife’s favorite name for a boat. As we were running behind Topsail Island, I remember seeing the waves top the beach, and Connie was calling the Coast Guard to go find her husband who was somewhere floating on a “pile of sticks”. Ah—those of little faith! I found some unused pilings in Spooner’s Creek, an excellent hurricane hole, tied her up and swam ashore, to be soundly dressed down for being such an idiot to buy a boat in a hurricane. Fran passed, Magic still floated, and I decided after all not to tempt Neptune with a name change. |
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So, today she floats placidly at Seawater Marina, in Atlantic Beach next to Finish Line First, which used to be Big Newt. In the years I’ve looked after her, we’ve had plenty of adventures, some great and some not so great. But, she’s always pulled me through, and never failed when it really counted. And I guess we’ll keep it up a little longer.
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