For most boaters up north, the season ends somewhere between Labor Day and Halloween. But a few hardy souls bravely soldier on, reasoning that this might be the year global warming officially kicks in, which would allow them to get in a few bonus weekends of boating. For those who push the envelope, here are some tips to let you know when you may have extended your boating season a little too far.
It’s time to pull the plug on this year’s boating if …
[1] The water in your lake is furiously steaming, and it’s not because the city department of recreation has decided to turn it into a giant hot tub.
[2] Your favorite pro football team was mathematically eliminated from the playoffs a month ago.
[3] You can’t get your boat serviced at the local dealership because most of the marine mechanics have migrated south along with the geese … but if your boat is powered by a snowmobile engine, you’re in luck.
[4] You sit on your boat’s ice-cold seat and gasp louder than you do when you open the electric bill.
[5] Your waterskiers get up easily … too easily, it seems, since you haven’t even put your boat in gear yet. This indicates they’re standing on ice.
[6] You check your engine’s oil, and it’s the same viscosity as the last couple of cups of clam chowder in the Crock Pot during the Sunday brunch at the Ramada Inn.
[7] You need a new water-ski tow rope and head down to "Tar-Jay," only to find that section has been seasonally replaced with snow shovels.
[8] After a high-speed run across the lake, you have a frozen grin on your face just like the Joker in the Batman movies.
[9] You finally let your 16-year-old drive the boat, so you can cowardly huddle behind the console facing rearward.
[10] You find yourself wearing more layers of clothing than a shoplifter at The Gap.
[11] After a weekend of fun on the water, you don’t regain feeling in your toes until Tuesday.
[12] Your batteries are as sluggish as the employees on New Year’s Day at the store that opens at 7 o’clock in the morning.
[13] You get to the ultra-popular hangout cove on Saturday, and instead of finding a flotilla of your boating friends, all you see is ice-fishing shacks.[16] Your water-ski-crazy kids suddenly get very polite — "You go first this time." "No, I insist, after you." — even when fully clad in neoprene.
[17] You strap on a life jacket, not because you should be wearing one anyway for safety, but for its R-40 insulation value.
[18] You have to add these items to your prelaunch checklist: shovel the driveway, put snow chains on your tow vehicle, and scrape your boat’s windshield.
[19] You go to stock your boat’s cooler with beverages and discover the ice from your last trip is still there.
[20] You go outside to hook up your boat to your tow vehicle, and instead you see a snow sculpture of a taller boat in its place … no wait, that’s your boat, buried under 3 feet of snow.