The nice thing about most classic plastic boats is the fact that they were mostly built like tanks. Fiberglass and polyester resin were cheap and did not require much in the way of expensive labor to slap together so, for the most part, a lot of very strong boats got made in the late 60s and 70s. Which is why I find myself in something akin to awe of our 1973 Islander 36.
Then again, I’d be remiss not to admit that most boats of the classic plastic ilk did cut corners where interior accommodation joinery seems to have been built on a Friday. But hey, what can you expect where minimum wage labor is concerned? Still, we’re only talking about cosmetic issues in most cases and not much that affects a boat’s seaworthiness.
Lucky for me, I actually enjoy wood
butchery joinery so fixing some poorly cut miters or suchlike is not so much a problem but a nice way to spend an afternoon.
Less enjoyable is sorting out the four previous owners collective insanity where the boat’s electrical system is concerned. It’s not so much the labor that I find distasteful but being up close and personal with the demented approach to something as simple as wiring makes me feel all kinds of uneasy. Just the thought of the very real fire danger makes me semi-phobic and nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
As it happens, apparently, I’m not alone. When we moved onto the boat we discovered that there were at least nine fire extinguishers on board and there is no place on board where you cannot reach out and grab one. Now, while I’m all in with having more than the USCG requires in terms of safety gear, there’s a point where fixing potential things like wiring that should be auditioning for “The Rat’s Nest From Hell” makes a lot more sense than living in a Fire Extinguisher showroom.
A post that really caught my attention because it’s just what I’ve been thinking about for the last five years or so in the “Enemy of my enemy is not always my friend” department.