First a little story. One time at Lake Powell I rented a small skiff to take my family
deep into red stone canyons. We got all of the way in as far as you can go and the motor
sputtered and died. Lucky for me I had brought a small bag of basic tools. I couldn't get that sucker started for my life. My wife was giving me that "I will kill you with the screwdriver" look. It was also 110 degree heat in August. So, I thought okay...lets check and see if we have spark. I pulled the electrical
wire and asked my wife to hold it close to the metal while I pulled the rope
so I could check arcing. Honestly, I did not know her hand was wet. She was screaming so loud from getting bit that it sounded like a drunken sailor who had just zipped his manhood in his zipper on an all night bender. I didn't know little church going girls even knew those words. Should have seen her "once" straight hair. I can say it was the cheapest and wildest perm I had seen her in for over 15 years. smile...
So, when she was screaming at me I told her that it wasn't my fault because she had told me so many times not to tell her what to do. So, I felt she must know something about water
and electricity that I didn't. You know how women can get. Nonetheless she had that aggressive and take no prisoners look. There was a real chance the kids
could be cougar bait latter that night if I couldn't get it started. We were way the hell up a canyon and no flight plan, radio
, nada...I knew which child I was going to tie rope
to and stake her to the ground if survival was paramount for the rest of us.
Finally, after the shocking experience of seeing my little churchy wife go from placid to certifiably insane in a microsecond I thought I better find a solution before I get stabbed to death with a flat head
screwdriver. So, I took the screwdriver and hammer and slowly began to turn the nut by tapping it. It must have been 30 minutes before I got that sucker lose. Every minute or so I would look over my shoulder to see if she had any hard objects in her hands or had even moved an inch closer. I was ready to dive overboard
on any progress towards me from this sullen black hatred looking wife that once was my wife only minutes before. There it was....the inline filter full of red sand....freaking marina. So, I just held the dirty fuel filter
up to her lips while she was screaming and that red sand just flew out of the wire mesh.."job, well done Sweetheart...couldn't have done it without you. Oh, and thanks for teaching the children
words they had never heard before."
So, I retire in two years and will buy another trailerable trimaran
. I want to know how to fix outboards with a modicum of skill level. I googled outboard
, small motor repairs
....etc. Some nice guy in Orlando Fl told me his 1 year class was 27K for mechanical training to pro level diplomacy. I told him I could just buy a new outboard
every ten years with even modest usage and maintenance
and be money
ahead. We laughed.
So, CF, I live in bay area of san Francisco
and I am asking how can I get training for outboard repairs
? I want a deeper understanding than just routine maintenance
. I don't need to know how to rebuild
the power head
, or grind valves type of thing. Fuel
diagnosis of sensors, routine maintenance, things of this nature. Can you provide me any class information, colleges, on-line courses, links, workshops...these sort of things would be so appreciated
PS..my oldest daughter took this photo
of the incident at Lake Powell...well it might just be more allegorical...but it was close to this scene. It was the first time I was ever afraid of a woman.