So after much deliberation, Kirk and I decided against throwing caution to the wind — AKA $3,000 into a fixer-upper sailboat sitting on the shores of Indiana — and instead agreed to hang on to caution, that unexciting, yet sensible, and ultimately comforting ideal.

Like the proverbial cliff jump, after your foot leaves the edge, will enough water sit far below to allay the effects of gravity? Is there even a pool down there at all, or just jagged rocks? Parachute anyone? Maybe a hang glider?

Buying any sort of vehicle off ebay is fairly risky business, and with rehabbing the condo, our reserves are going to be stretched in the upcoming months. Financially, even with a quarter-share investor secured (my Dad), we’d be jumping off that nautical precipice clutching a plastic garbage bag, at best.

Ah well, not this time. There will be more boats. Considering that worldwide oil reserves deficit thing going on, I surmise only more and more boats on the horizon. Particularly with sails.