Our Story Continued...(Pg. 3)

We didn't talk about her too much right after that, but I wasn’t too surprised when Dave announced a few days later that he’d arranged to take out a loan if we needed. After that, we alternated between not discussing her at all so we wouldn’t get our hopes up and arguing over a name. (Dave won.) If one of us couldn’t be found in the evening, our old marina was a sure bet.

Since Dave was making the financial arrangements, I spent my time researching the judgment that had been levied on her, speaking with attorneys, and trying to get a straight answer as to whether or not a purchaser at a public sale like this would be able to get clear title. One month to the day, July 26th, was “Sarah Day” and the sale was at noon. On the way to a quick job at a neighboring marina, I took a private moment with her. I like to think I’m fairly stable, but these boats, and Sarah in particular, just hit an emotional cord in me. As I stood there in the quiet marina, I laid my cheek against her hull and tears streamed down my face. “Five more hours Pretty. Just five more hours. We’re trying so hard. We won’t know til noon, but we’re going to do our best.” I guess I somehow got a grip, and when she drew first blood (I picked off one too many barnacles), I went on to work.

Our sheriff's office had not handled a matter like this before, and somewhere in the archaic language of the judgment it said that the vessel was to be "sold to the highest and best bidder for cash" and nothing but nothing would convince the Powers-That-Be that they could accept a letter of credit or other terms. So not only did Dave arrange for a loan, he left the bank with cash. Not exactly a brief case full either. Sadly, our life savings and the maximum value he could sign his name to fit in a couple of very small envelopes. He got to the marina pretty early and I arrived about 11:40. Nerves were stretched to the breaking point as about a dozen people began to mil around the boat. Everyone with their best poker faces, everyone playing their cards close to the chest. I was by the stern speaking with one of the deputies when Dave got my attention and said quietly, "I don't think I can do it, you're going to have to bid."

I barely had time to absorb what he said when the deputy in charge called for all bidders to step forward. The sheriff's officers wisely claimed the shady area under the boat, and assembled us facing directly into the noon sun. I know my main concern was not locking my knees and passing out as the deputy read every single word of the Judgment and Levy of Execution. The scuttlebutt around the yard had it that the bidding was going to start at a few hundred dollars, but from speaking with the attorney for the judgment holder, I knew that: a) the boat had been surveyed; and b) they were willing to accept to the value given by the surveyor. With a nod from the attorney for the judgment holder, I opened the bidding with that amount and a gasp went through the crowd. The bidder standing immediately to my right was a local business owner who I'd figured to be my competition. Remarkably, he stood silent. However, a voice somewhere to his right upped my bid by $500. The unseen bidder and I went back and forth for several rounds and the bidding quickly approached the amount that Dave and I had decided - after much discussion and deliberation - was the absolute maximum we could and would pay.

When the bidding reached our breaking point, I looked over at Dave and he just nodded to go ahead and blew me a kiss. I upped the ante two more rounds, and she was ours! My only recollection is the sound of the crowd bursting into applause as I fell into Dave's arms.

The above photograph was taken just minutes after the sale and the last deputy can be seen walking away near the stern of the second boat. I took a few pictures before leaving for work, and by the time I got back that evening, Dave had her cleaned up, secured, drying out, and covered to prevent any more water intrusion.