It was too foggy to fly, so I drove down the road from the heliport to get something to eat. I first noticed a driveway that looked like it once led to some commercial establishment, but now leads to nothing but a building pad. The building was taken out by Katrina, or an earlier hurricane. Off to the side of the driveway, in an overgrown parcel of land, I saw this boat.
It might have been someone's personal sportfishing boat in days past, or it could have been a smallish commercial fishing boat or commercial guide service boat. I don't know.
Old things get to me. They hold stories they can't tell. I looked at this old boat, and wondered how many people may have made their livings off of it, or how many good times and sorrows danced across its deck.
I wish old things could talk. I wish when old people talked, more people would listen.
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