When we bought our 38 foot sloop 17 years ago, we thought we had it all figured out– well, about what we were going to name it anyways. Everything else was still up in the air, but we thought we were certain enough about the name that we wrote it in all of our important cruising manuals before we had even bought ourselves a boat. Early on, it seemed like an obvious choice. The idea was based entirely on the fact that our boat was made out of metal and also that we were climbing aboard it in our departure from life in The Motor City.
Tin Lizzie was what we intended to paint on our boat when we finally made the purchase, so one of the first things we did was remove the old name from the stern. We scraped the old letters off of the aluminum as carefully as we could, but even when they were all removed, the name was still clearly printed in shiny un-oxidized metal. We puzzled for months on how we could cover it up, but got nowhere.
Some of our close friends were concerned. They said that we shouldn’t proceed with any of our other jobs until we had secured the new name. It was bad luck, they said.
There were some English people who insisted that “it” was a “she”– and she had something to do with royalty. They said it had something to do with the queen. But how would they even know what our boat name was supposed to represent? It irritated us. This was our journey.
I should probably also say something about pronouns here. When we found it (not her), we had considered our boat to be an “it”. It was unclear how the former French owners felt about the matter when they handed it off, but someone French along the way had tried to tell us that “it” was actually a “he” because “it” was a French boat. But we’re Americans, so we have been trained to always be suspicious of the French, so our boat has remained an it.
Upon hearing our choice of name, others nodded happily in approval as if they understood it all perfectly well. They then followed their reaction by saying, “I love that band!” No. Not Thin Lizzy. There are a lot of independent thinkers– and heavy drug and alcohol users in the sailing world.
In the seven months that we spent toiling in the dirty yard, we found our explanations tiresome. Tin Lizzie was a moniker given to Henry Ford’s infamous Model T, which was marketed as the ultimate promise of personal freedom. His assembly line and relatively high wages would, he said, revolutionize our lives and bring freedom and sovereignty to us all. Like the Model T, the Tin Lizzie was also the name we intended to give to our sailboat. In our heads, the name evoked a passage toward true personal freedom. In all our conversations in the yard, however, it only always led to boring historical discussions about the man who brought us all slavery.
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Absolutely fabulous! I’m so happy for you! Bravo!
This is an amazing story and one I never heard before! I look forward to the posting! The stories of the seas always interest me!!
Thanks Randy! We appreciate your support. Thanks for following along.
Hey guys . It’s Sylvio and Charo, was a pleasure to meet you both today.. great read here. I’m sure to follow you now..