A survey report reads a bit like a ship’s log written by someone who only had a few hours aboard and wasn’t allowed to start pulling panels. It’s useful, but it’s not gospel, and it’s certainly not a beauty pageant score.
The trick is to keep your sea legs while you read: note what was actually tested, what was only “observed,” and what couldn’t be reached without a wrench and a longer day. Some findings are the price of owning a boat; others are the kind that keep you awake at anchor.
If you treat the language the way you’d treat weather words—carefully—you’ll come away with a clear sense of risk, cost, and what to verify before you sign anything.