$39,900 with Chevy Astro towing van, $35,900 alone.
1993, Corsair F-27 #323.
Say What? 18.5 knots with fingertip control in winds gusting 25? Blasting past the monohull fleet that started five minutes ahead like their keels were anchored by seaweeds even though their full spinnakers were stretching and pulling with all their might?
Are you sure? 2 kts boatspeed in 4 kts light air. Ease the traveller. Ease the outhaul. Ease the jib. Damn, ease everything. Shift crew downhill. Ghost past three other fleets of racers as they sit with sails listless and heavy. Catch the strengthening west breeze. Tighten up and blast away while the rest are still trying to remember which sheet to pull.
That many? The best disabled helm from a crew of disabled kids was the blind girl from Nigeria. She sailed by the feel of the breeze on her cheek. She was connected wind to mainsail to mainsheet to hand to tiller to body to seat to boat to water and all the way back again, feeling the tension of the light breeze and the pull of the water all the way across the lake. Tears and shouts all around.
And this too? It’s a small bay. No one around. Crank the tunes and dance in the tiny cockpit while the sun sets on a horizon of tiny islands and other boats. Burgers and shrimp are on the barbie, drinks are in hand, and Dance until the day goes dark. Tuck in to the warm bed and let the whisper of the water on the hull put you to sleep. Then get up to eggs and bacon. To the gleam of sunrise on still water. To the hint of the coming sea breeze. To another day of hour-long gibes with the magenta and blue spinnaker. Life can be good, very good.