Well, they say that a baker’s dozen is 13. A real dozen is 12, of course. So, I figure the way fishermen stretch tails, and tales, a fisherman’s dozen must be about 10. 
I wanted to put the boat in for the first time since Novermberish of last year. I’ve had my mind on other things for quite a while, but whenever I feel that nice Fall air, it makes me want to be out on the river again, soothing my ichthyological addiction. Anyone who’s owned boats, though, knows that after a boat slumbers that long, you can’t always just count on popping it right in and running around without doing a little homework or running into a snag. I had hoped that, being fairly new, she’d run for me on Friday with nothing but a charge to the trolling cells, a quick once over of the electro-mechanicals, and a can of fuel conditioner, but that was fishful thinking, and Friday was ultimately spent casting for sticks on the dock and chewing the fat with JimIslander–plan B.
Although less than 2 years old, the arm-and-a-leg, AGM cranking battery was toast from the long sit. It was probably my fault for not checking on it for so long, but still a little frustrating. A bad load test later, and I had to replacce it–with a $50 cheapster that does the trick just fine . I was also a little concerned about the gas from having couched that long, so I put some Star Tron in the tank to mitigate my concern, per the suggestion of a dealer friend. I usually use hardshell-Baptist gas in that boat whenever possible, but I think I may have put some of the firewater in the tank on one or two of those in-a-hurry trips last year. I’m still not used to having to worry about gas quite as much as we have to now with the cocktail fuel. Who ever came up with that stupid idea, anyway?
So, yesterday afternoon, after replacing the battery, checking the oil and some other things, and making sure everything was working, on a sort of spur-of-the moment decision, I drove on over to the Wando and dipped that purdy blue gal into the wat