INSIGHTS TELLTALES By Jay Coyle194YACHTINGFE BRUA RY2 01 8steve haefeleYachting magazine Volume 223, No. 2 (ISSN 0043-9940, USPS 504-830) is published monthly by Bonnier Corp., 460 N. Orlando Ave., Suite 200, Winter Park, FL 32789. Copyright
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W
e don’t sell
yachts like
yours, Coyle,”
my yacht-bro-
ker pal Tom said bluntly. “On
average, we’ve sold a yacht
every four days since I pur-
chased this brokerage four
decades ago. Your yacht is
bad for business. She’ll take
years to unload.”
Tom had a point. I’d already
suffered through her sale
once before. “This is the last
time Coyle, right?” he asked.
The details of my history
with Puss, my aged New
England catboat, are all a bit
fuzzy, but I recall fi rst purchas-
ing her in the 1990s. I invested
three times her cost into re-
assembling her remains and
then sold her six years later
for what I’d originally paid.
Six years after that, I made
the same mistake after repur-
chasing her in a fog of holiday-
inspired consumption. Now,
another six years had passed.
Tom agreed to post her list-
ing covertly with my phone
number, and he gave me sim-
ple advice: “Two words Coyle:
yes and yes. Yes, she’s for sale,
and yes if someone off ers you
anything. Anything at all!”
The fi rst call came within
days. “Is the 20-foot catboat
still for sale?”
“Yes,” I responded eagerly.
“I would be happy to help
you sell her,” the caller off ered,
claimed he’d been watching
Puss’ price plummet. He of-
fered to put me out of my mis-
ery if I stooped just a bit lower.
At last, a true sailor (cheap).
“Puss has a suitor,” I an-
nounced to Tom with satis-
faction. He was skeptical.
“We’ve agreed on a price,”
I promised doubting Tom.peddling buyer fi nancing. I
hung up on him in disgust.
During the next two years, I
heard from the fi nancing call
center quarterly, along with
a dreamer who intended to
move aboard and a know-it-
all who insisted that a catboat
was a catamaran.
Finally, a fellow called and“He’ll meet her next week.”
“Take whatever he off ers,”
Tom adv ised.
Puss had been interred at
Capt. B’s boatyard in Florida
since her listing. I asked him
to freshen her makeup and
prepare to “give her away.”
“The fellow arrived last
night and slept aboard,” Capt.
B said. “He claimed he was go-
ing to cross Lake Okeechobee,
and she was gone at sunup.”
“Slept aboard?” I asked.
“Where? Are you sure she
didn’t sink at the dock?”
“Already checked,” Capt. B
grumbled, clearly mourning
the loss of his annuity.
“Good God,” I said, worrying.
“She’s never motored 5 miles
from home. Her one-lung die-
sel will have an embolism!”
My concern felt odd, giv-
en that I’m a powerboat guy
at heart. I’d only become a
sa i lor out of necessit y: It wa s
“required reading” for my
yacht-design degree. Puss’ dif-
fi cult and desperately cheap
builder had been foolish
enough to hire me right out
of school. Years later, when
I interviewed for member-
ship in a yacht club with a rich
ragbag history, she provided
credibility, if only a smidgen.
Sure, she could be stubborn
and sometimes a bit vindictive,
but she really was one hell of
a boat, I thought.
What have I done? Again ...PARTING
WITH PUSS
Once again, I say goodbye to my beloved catboat.“I RECALL FIRST PURCHASING HER
IN THE 1990S. I INVESTED
THREE TIMES HER COST INTO
REASSEMBLING HER REMAINS.”