The first boat you fall for is usually the wrong one. Nothing shameful in that—it’s just how salt gets under the skin. A sheerline catches your eye, a varnished wheel whispers promises, and next thing you know you’re measuring lockers like they’re destiny.
Out on the water, romance burns off quick. What’s left is draft in a thin anchorage, a winch you can’t reach when it matters, an engine you can’t service without turning yourself into a contortionist, and a monthly bill that doesn’t care about your dreams.
Choose a boat the way you choose a watch mate: for the work they’ll do on an ordinary day, not their stories at the dock.