TESTING ITS
PERFORMANCE
UPDATING A CLASSIC
THE BOOK’S MATERIALS LIST WAS A BIT DATED. AN OBVIOUS
example: The instructions called for a canvas deck coated with
“plenty of lead paint.” I wanted to stay true to the original design,
but not that true. I covered the boat with marine-grade mahogany,
with each piece coated in epoxy and screwed to the boat. For the fin-
ish, I used a conventional wooden stain, with an automotive-grade
urethane clear coat for the top surface.
Popular Mechanics purists from the ’30s would probably roll over in
their graves upon hearing that, but acrylic urethane is harder than and
superior to varnish. If I had used the organic materials called for in the
book, the life expectancy of the boat would have been pretty limited.
Many boats in the old Gentleman’s Racer class had two seats: the
driver and navigator’s seat aft and a “seat” in the forward deck. Some
boats had a hatch to cover the forward seat, but even with the hatch, it
was still considered a recreation boat rather than something you’d race
for sport, in the same way a hot rod is still technically a passenger car.
Some of my dealership connections came in handy for aesthetics
and accessories. A shop in Celina, Ohio, sewed all the vinyl uphol-
stery for the boat. The plans called for leather, but the ride of this boat
produces a lot of spray, so the interior was guaranteed to be wet. The
windshield and brackets were made by a specialty shop, and an Amish
cabinet shop local to my home in Indiana did some of the complex
wood-cutting. Other local Amish companies crafted the stainless steel
hardware on the deck and sides, and installed the gold leaf lettering.
With all the modifications, I had to calculate the displacement
of the boat to verify balance and water-line height. Water weighs
about 60 pounds per cubic foot. By calculating the cubic footage of
the hull, I was able to establish how deep the boat would sit in the
water. When the boat was finally launched, it f loated within a half-
inch of what my mathematical calculations had predicted. Not bad
for a protractor and compass.
THIS WOULD HAVE BEEN A FAST BOAT BACK
in the day. It can be dead in the water and reach
full plane in just under two seconds. It’ll never
be fast by modern standards because of the old-
school hydrodynamics and engineering. New
boats have designs that lift them out of the water
at speed, and this one can’t achieve that lift.
With the 18-inch pitch on the propeller—
allowing for 15 percent propeller slippage—and
the engine turning 3,200 rpms, my math says
the boat should have a top speed of around 46
mph. But 40 is probably more realistic. Due to
the fresh engine, I haven’t pushed it hard to the
top end yet.
As far as driving and handling, Flash is quite
well-mannered. Granted, performance isn’t on
par with a contemporary sport boat, but a 1930s
sedan won’t handle or perform comparable to a
modern automobile, either. Regardless, cruis-
ing at 28 to 30 mph, this boat is as sweet as can
be. It’s an attention-getter, too. Flash creates a
huge curtain of spray on both sides, and when
I take it out, people on other boats are always
taking pictures.
I numbered the boat with G-36—G for the
Gentleman’s Racer classification, and 36 for
the rough vintage—and stamped its name,
Flash, in gold leaf. Finally, I put “A.J. Moser”—
my great-grandfather who founded our family
dealership in 1886—on the side. That’s a nod to
my father, too. He made things all his life. He
told me: “Jim, work with your hands. You can
do things if you tr y, and it’s good for your mind.”
Maybe my great-grandchildren will be able to
dig out this story in another 85 years and show
off the boat again.—As told to Jordan GolsonSeptember/October 2020 53