Just Volks
They looked like enchanted and dangerous toys, bobbing in the water, abaft the starboard beam of our Volkswagen Bus as we traveled north over the Golden Gate Bridge.
Sailboats mainly, escaped from bottles or "Treasure Island" pirate stories read underneath childhood's scratchy wool blankets deep into the night. Ketches and cats, schooners and sloops, containers for dreams.
It took years to transform from slumbound Germanically automotived hippie, to walk down the steep, eculyptus-sloped hills, from the unforgiving concrete of Highway 101 to the all-embracing water below in Richardson Bay. Now the steel has turned into wood, delicate ribs and breathing planks of mahogany, a lapstrake-hulled 1957 Folkboat.
A Volksboat? Looks maybe as if I haven't traveled that far yet. |
