Rick whispered that the tournament director was holding a copy of my sea trial form, and also a list, from 2023, with his name on it. Both of those things were doing exactly what the law allows.
The sea trial form said Rick tested the boat and accepted it in working order, which he did, because the engine I rebuilt in four days purred. It also acknowledged the unpaid repair balance, which let me file a repairmans lien on the boat. A boat with an unsatisfied lien does not have clear title, and most tournaments, including that one, require clear title and no liens to enter. That is why the director would not let a ninety-thousand-dollar bass boat with my lien on it put in the water for twenty thousand in prize money.
The list from 2023 was the registry of recorded marine liens, the public record a careful tournament director checks. Ricks boat was on it now, because he refused to pay his mechanic and tossed a fifty-dollar bill on my workbench.
He said if he won Saturday, maybe he would tip me. He did not get to fish Saturday, because you cannot race a boat that legally is not all his yet.
There was one way to clear the lien and get off the list in time. Pay the mechanic. Rick paid the five thousand six hundred twenty dollars from the tournament launch, and I released the lien, though by then the entry window had closed and he watched the tournament from the dock.
And the kids came to me for the summer, because you cannot actually trade your children to dodge a boat repair. Tammy learned that the custody order, not her threats, decides where they spend July.
I have run a little marine shop on the Lake of the Ozarks for thirty years. I rebuilt that Mercury right and it ran perfect, and they paid me in insults and a fifty-dollar bill. In the end they paid me in full, because a lien does not care how big your bass boat is. Rick did not win the tournament. I would call that a fair catch.