“Is that your new dock
floating this way?” he asked. The question was so simply stated that I got up
to look around before I even realized what I had been asked. My wife Linda and
I own a cabin in Quebec
and how that happened and how I even have a wife is beyond me. Now, I was unthinkingly
responding to a question asked me by my stepson’s husband. Stepson’s husband,
that’s a tongue twister all on its own, and anyway, why would I own a dock and
why is it floating this way? Can anybody out there please help me?
My brain kicked in and I
heard its whisper in my ear, “Yup old buddy, that could indeed be your dock
floating this way.” Actually, it looked more like it was about to float right
past our place, forever bobbing loosely about in Lac Saint Francois-Xavier. The
area residents constantly pointing to it, saying “That belongs to those idiot
Anglos who live on the point”.
I started to prepare the
story I was going to tell the police when they arrived to investigate why my dock
was free floating in their lake.
A week earlier my wife was
out in her kayak and came across a sign on a property about a quarter mile up
the lake from us which indicated, “Dock for sale”, actually it really read
"Quai à vendre" but Linda knew right off what it meant. She came back
all excited about what she had found and as for me, I wasn’t there so I took
her word for it. You see, I don’t do water, never have since that first time I
found out I couldn’t walk on it and as for French, I have enough on my plate
with this English stuff, thank you, very much.
We have a great marriage and
amazingly have few disagreements but somehow this spun me right out of orbit. We’ve
spent the past few years discussing how we need to de-clutter and now she wanted
to add a dock to our overflowing pantry. Where would I ever find the room or money
for that posing couch I couldn’t live without if we bought this and how would
we attach the dock to the shore? I want you to know I’m more than just a pretty
face and fairly good at handyman things. Before this dock reared its ugly head
I was in the middle of installing solar panels on the cabin’s roof, I’m a reasonably
talented kiddie, but a dock? To begin with, most docks I’ve seen are on water
which as already mentioned, I don’t go in. I also knew a dock could easily cost
over a thousand dollars, but how much is a used dock worth anyway?
When I became human again we
walked down the road to view it up close. No one was home but we let ourselves
into their unlocked dock area for a closer inspection. It was a fine looking
object, very newish looking and about eight by eight feet with a solidly built walkway,
a true find. I’m just kidding; I wouldn’t know what a good dock looked like if
I was standing on one, which I was. We wrote down the phone number which had a Montreal exchange and
went back to our cabin.
A few days later when I
finally summoned up the courage to start that sad “Do you speak English”
conversation before I say anything else, I dialed up the number. Well, he
didn’t speak English, didn’t know what I was talking about and hung up on me.
God bless the Quebecois, I was free! Or so I thought. I soon decided that the
phone call was so discordant that we must have written down the wrong number
and yes, we had. Two days later I was willing to give it another go.
Stefan identified himself as
an English speaker and was obviously excited that he had actually gotten a call
about his dock. We both agreed neither of us had any idea what a used dock was
worth so he said “how about 400 dollars?” I cleared my throat and he said
“okay, 350 then.” I leaned forward and my chair creaked and he said “I see what
you mean, how about 300?” I took in a deep breath, about to answer and he said
“does 250 sound better?” A moment later when he hit 200 dollars I squealed “stop
it Stefan, I’ll take it for 200, consider it sold.” He was on his way up from Montreal the following
weekend so we agreed to meet then to finalize the sale.
On the weekend I went to meet
Stefan and figure out what to do about getting the dock to us. Could Stefan
attach it to his pontoon boat and simply tow it down or was this a job for
FedEx, maybe UPS or was this finally the time to test Canada Post’s “We deliver
anything, anywhere” boast? I offered to help with the disassembly but Stefan
insisted not to worry, he would look after everything.
Now here I was, just hours
later standing on the shore watching canoes and kayaks trying to avoid being
rammed by this floating beast. Our floating beast! By now I assumed that as
Stefan went to hook it on his tow boat it had gotten away from him and here it
was, out in the middle of the lake, about to float past. As it got closer I
realized that it wasn’t just the dock but I could now see the walkway still
attached to it. An 8 by 8 foot slab of wood with an 8 foot walkway floating
behind it. I didn’t know if I should feel panic or pride for being responsible
for such a commotion. Oh lord, please don’t let this incident start that Quebec separating from Canada business again. Linda, her
son, his husband and I all standing transfixed and helpless, mutely waiting to
see what would happen next.
Just then I saw a head
bobbing up from the very end of it all. Did I just hear the bobbing head call
out to us or is this just another Acid Flashback? Is it time to cut back on my
drug use or is my new dock talking to me? I knew I was definitely not the
person to answer those questions.
It was him! Stefan was
swimming in the water at the tail end of it all, pushing the whole thing down the
lake to our place. Calling out to us to find out where we wanted him to beach
it. At this point others in and near the water began to join in the festivity
and suddenly we were running a concession at a carnival. It was obvious now, we
were in a Fellini movie, but where are all the marching clowns, the drummer boy
leading the parade? He called out again and one of us muttered, “Good grief,
he’s swimming behind it and has floated it down here on his own.” My brain
screaming, “Over here, over here” and then finally words tumble out, “Over here
Stefan, I will toss you a rope.” I had a heavy rope ready and gave it a grand
toss, he caught it and a loud cheer erupted from the nearby boats on the water.
He tied the rope to a cleat and swam in closer as I slowly guided the dock from
my end of the rope to shore. He hoisted himself onto the dock and removing his
flippers he sauntered ashore. What a magnificent display, we all fell in love
with him at the same time. He said that I should bring the money to his place whenever
I could. Without pausing for drinks or any of the bodily favours we were all
offering him he walked back into the lake and started his swim back to his
place.
About an hour later I went up
to his place to pay him for the dock. I said I needed to give him $250 for the
purchase. He accepted only after I insisted that he had made the transaction so
easy and that the theater and artistry of the whole experience was easily worth
an extra fifty dollars. In return he insisted that when I came back to the cabin
next year I had to promise I would get him to help me install it on our
shoreline.
I quickly agreed and headed
back to our cabin.
