By this time I was a hero and so the "christening" was left to me. I forthwith slid the boat gently into the water with the loud proclamation that the craft was to be called EIGHT BALL. Obviously, no other name would fit. Immediately after launching, #1 daughter announced, "I'm first, I wanted the sailboat!" Such comments have to necessarily be handled with aplomb. So mastering my most dignified approach, I announced, "Better let Dad take it out and try it first". Mother immediately agreed (agreement at last!). Actually she agreed almost too quickly. I almost felt like asking if she didn't have more confidence in my ability to design a little plywood ting-a-ling that would float. My not-too-usual level head took over since I'd made up my mind that I preferred to be IN the EIGHT BALL instead of BEHIND one.

Fig. 16: Wafting along under a light breeze... the thrill that only the builder who can say "I built it myself" really knows.

I shoved off from the dock and the breeze caught the sail. Darned if it wasn't relaxing! There was no sense coming back too soon, so I took off for the dam. This was a reasonable distance away, and besides, I really should check her out thoroughly before turning "my" EIGHT BALL over to the kids who were now hollering in the distance… and besides, mother would feel more secure if I… Eventually after trying the little craft on all tacks, I figured I'd better head back for the dock and the kids. Funny thing though, the sun was starting to set. Where did all the time go?

I pulled into the dock on the last of evening's ghosting breeze. No kids, no mother! The married man can again tell what took place. To the rest of you, let's just say that I am no longer allowed in the EIGHT BALL.

Anyway, during the prolonged silence, which greeted me, I came to a very firm conclusion. Building that little boat was a heck of a lot of fun, although I would have to keep it a secret or I'd be building more boats for the family and that wouldn't do at all. And besides, I already had plans in my mind for building an EIGHT BALL of MY very own. Not one of the company's testing prototypes that everyone use... not another cruiser or large boat as time would not allow these anymore. Just a personal dream boat. I still had my "mad money" and I could almost see myself sailing around the lake, waving at my neighbors with the kids in "their" EIGHT BALL laughing in the background. This one would be MY VERY OWN! Come to think of it, that's the statement I'm always telling others. I guess that old saw, "practice what you preach" has some meaning after all.

EPILOGUE: Funny thing happened with this project. Remember Doc, the neighbor I accused of fomenting trouble in the neighborhood by getting a boat for all the kids? Well, it wasn't Doc who started the riot. It was little old ME! It seemed some of the kids went up to the lake and used our little EIGHT BALL. They came home and insisted their Pop build them their very own boat too. In fact, the whole affair got out of hand and our company started marketing the plans and patterns for $7, and other items like hardware and sails too!

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