Boat Trailers - Spawn of the Devil!

I have a tiny place on a lake. And for all the good that lake life offers, there is one thing about it I can’t stand. It drives me  crazy, and frustrates me faster than a politician’s speech.  You would think by now I would have it down pat. You would think that after 15 years of being on the water it would have become second nature, as natural as breathing.  But no, I still can’t do it very well.  Oh, I’ll get the job done,  but it will take about a half hour to bumble through it. And by the time I’m finished, my blood pressure will be near stroke level.  As most of you have certainly guessed by now, it’s backing a boat trailer into the water. 

Maybe if I did it more often, I would’ve developed some trailer backing skills. But since I only do it twice a year, I remain woefully inept. It just doesn’t seem natural to me: cut left to go right, and cut right to go left. Then add in my mild case of dyslexia, and I don’t have a chance.  I’ll even stop at a church parking lot on the way to my lake house to practice before the big event, which isn’t a good idea because some of the words I use are more appropriate in a biker bar. It doesn’t help anyway, because that huge expanse of asphalt doesn’t prepare me for what’s coming. 

The put-in spot for my trailer would challenge an expert, so it makes things almost impossible for a chump like me. It’s located a couple of houses down from us, so it’s super convenient.  But to get my jet ski trailer in the water,  I have to negotiate a sharp, tight turn between a grove of strategically placed pine trees.  Once I get past them, there are two small, aggravating walls that flank the narrow concrete drive all the way down to the water.  Pair that with my complete lack of trailer backing skills, and I might as well be trying to thread a needle wearing a pair of welding gloves. On more than one occasion, I have put the truck in park, got out from behind the wheel, and physically picked up the little jet ski trailer to set it on the proper course. It’s frustrating, pathetic, and embarrassing.  I’m pretty sure that if I went south when I died, my eternal punishment it would be narrow put-in spot, a tiny trailer, and a Chevy pick-up without a backup camera. Thank you for Jesus. 

One buddy of mine, who has excellent trailer backing skills, loves to watch me attempt this near impossible task.  I hate him because what takes me about 30 minutes, he can do in approximately 14 seconds. I’m pretty sure that if he knew when I was putting a jet ski in the water, he would bring a cooler and chairs just so he could sit and laugh watching me.  And you can be sure when he finds a Tic Tok video showing some unfortunate person screwing up with a boat trailer, he will send it to me, accompanied by a totally unnecessary snarky comment.

Even my wife has become a part of the problem. After my last bout of trying to get my trailer in the water, she bought me a toy truck with a little attached trailer in case “I wanted to practice at home”. I’m checking with an attorney to see if this is grounds for divorce.  Even worse, if she happens to be in the truck,  I’ll get unwanted advice like, “Go the other way,” “pull up and try again,” and, “you’re about to hit that pine tree.”  In all fairness, this may be because once she saw me jackknife our trailer in a wide driveway, putting a dent in her car.  

This year, I caught a break. I was pulling my little trailer down to our put-in point when I saw a couple of workers repairing a neighbor’s dock. They said,”Hey, watcha doin’?” When I told them what I was about to attempt, they offered to back it in the water for me. I turned to my wife, and with a look of a convict who just got a death row reprieve, said, “Praise the Lord and pass me the truck keys.”  Within a few short minutes they easily completed the task. 

I thanked my new best friends and got behind the wheel of the truck.  However,  before I even got to my driveway, a chilling thought hit me that took away all my joy. 

In a few months I have to do this all over again.