As I lay awake last night in the darkness, as my mind roiled with economic disaster worries, a whisper of a name filtered through the ether til it was the only thing in my mind as I fell asleep. Miss Winifred. Oh, yes, I love her. What a sweet image to banish all thoughts of crisis.

This morning I did a Google search and sure enough, she is available. She resides currently in England and can be had for a mere $20,000. Not a hooker, and not a person, Miss Winifred is the loveliest singlehanded sailboat ever designed, by Nathanael Herreshoff, the famous boat designer of America's Cup class sailboats in the late 19th and early 20th century. Along with the huge, graceful racing boats that dominated the America’s Cup, he designed smaller boats for individuals, for racing and for pleasure. Miss Winifred was named after the first owner of the original boat. His designs are so elegant, so fine that they look as though they float untouched above the water, unbound by gravity. The image of classic sailing is embodied by Herreshoff. This is a Fabergé egg, a Hope Diamond, a Rolls Royce. This is something fine and rare.

When I had the money for a sailboat, I bought a used fiberglass sloop that was low maintenance, somewhat clunky and relatively inexpensive ($7000 in the mid ‘80’s). I was doing well financially and could afford to keep her in a wet slip on the lake. I sailed at least once a month, but what I really loved was tinkering, fixing and embellishing her, proving Ratty ("There is nothing -- absolutely nothing -- half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats." from the Wind in the Willows) to be a deep scholar of human behavior.

This is something that all boat owners understand, and it’s a bond that has made strangers into friends all over the globe. Once when I was anchored in a hidden alcove called Pirates Cove, off the Intercoastal between Mobile Bay and Pensacola, I spotted a sailboat hull at a dock across the cove that was breathtakingly beautiful. It was missing all the other usual accoutrements of sailing, but the hull, oh, it was beautiful. We dinghied over and invited ourselves onto the property. The owner was thrilled, and gave us a full tour of the gutted 50’s era Cheoy Lee. He wouldn’t sell his baby to me though, and good thing too. The early 90's recession hit the advertising and design business a year later and I was out of a job.

Now, in the midst of another economic breakdown, the siren song of another lovely boat has invaded my dreams. There is no excuse for this, I live inland and am living on borrowed time as far as income is concerned. Would I sell my van to make a deposit? Could I give up cable and internet to make a payment? Would a bank even give me a loan, for that matter, for such a luxury item? People are going to be starving and I could be one of them. What am I thinking?

Four years ago, while I still had the benefit of two incomes, I searched for Miss Winifred and couldn’t find her. The plans were available, but no boatyards were producing them. No one was selling their personal boat, because the economy was still sufficiently robust that an asset like a classic sailboat would be treasured. Now they are being sold off like family heirlooms at an estate sale. Now is the time to buy a treasure like this. Maybe I couldn’t sail once a month, but oh, I could mess about to my heart’s content. I could change my lifestyle, move to the coast, give up my art, even, horrors, get a job to keep her in the lifestyle that she deserves. And she’s worth it.

But... it breaks my heart, but luxuries can’t be in my immediate future. But thanks for letting me talk about it. If there is another bubble in the future, before I am too old, she will be mine.