My First Bass Boat

1987 Ranger 374V

Every bass fisherman remembers his first bass boat.  While most of us share the humble beginnings of jon boats, plastic flat hull boats, or even canoes, we will never forget the sheer exhilaration of cranking our first outboard and feeling the undeniable freedom of the open water.

This is no different for me.  When I was 19, I was absolutely itching to get my first bass boat.  I knew I had what it took to succeed in competitive bass fishing -- everything but a boat, that is.  I can vividly remember lying in bed at night dreaming of screaming down the lake at 70 miles per hour and turning the heads of jealous fisherman at every boat ramp.  I was going to be hot stuff in my shiny, sparkly new bass boat -- watch out Brad Pitt.

Every evening I would set aside school work and scour the internet for the perfect bass boat.  Did I want a Ranger?  A Skeeter?  A Triton?  The possibilities were endless -- or so I thought.  I soon came to the harsh realization that outlandish expectations and a $3,000 budget wouldn't get me very far.  My bass boat bubble was busted.

Once I finally got my head out of the clouds and returned to Planet Earth, I continued my search, but on a (much) lesser scale.  I soon found myself researching the intricacies of fiberglass repair, upholstery and carpet replacement, trailer wiring, and debating whether or not a boat with a "few leaks" would really be that bad.  With my modest budget, I was going to need to know a thing or two about everything. 

After months of searching, I finally ran across what I thought was my 'diamond in the rough' -- a red and cream color 1987 Ranger 374V with a bright white Johnson GT150 on the back.  Maybe I was going to be lookin' good on the water after all.  Heck, this boat even had a stainless steel prop.  Talk about fancy!  If I recall correctly, the Craigslist advertisement read as follows:

"1987 ranger 374v for sale.  runs good, few bad spots on gell coat.  stainless steal prop, live wells dont work.  one fish finder, troling motor petal is stiff dont know why. 3500 o.b.o call ron"

Okay, so maybe the guy has some trouble spelling, but who cares?  Looks like I was going to test drive a boat.

To make a long story short, I test drove the boat, the engine skipped and stuttered like Porky the Pig, an 800 pound gorilla could stand on the trolling motor pedal and not move it, and you could grind diamonds on the gel coat.  But I didn't care.  It was a bass boat, and the only one without leaks I could find, so I bought it.

After months of spending money and trying to make my new boat 'do right', all I had was a headache and a huge financial burden on my hands.  I was catching plenty of fish in it, but I only got to actually fish every third time I backed it into the water.  If the engine was running well, the trolling motor wouldn't work.  If the trolling motor was working, the boat wouldn't get on plane.  And if, by some miraculous occurrence, both the engine and trolling motor were working, the trailer lights wouldn't come on.  Talk about frustrating.

In every tournament I ever competed in, I was always the guy getting to the ramp an hour early just to make sure my boat would run.  When she would finally crank, I'm pretty certain that everyone in the surrounding counties knew.  I'm not sure what was more embarrassing -- the pathetic, high pitched screeching of my almost-dead engine, or the coughing of the bystanders suffocating from the thick, white smoke quickly engulfing the surrounding quarter mile radius of my boat.  On a few occasions, I had people flat out laugh at me -- but I really didn't care.  I was doing what I loved and chasing a dream, and was totally unapologetic about it.  I would just give them a quick grin, a wave, and would (hopefully) be on my way fishing!

To make myself feel better, I would always tell myself that "the fish don't know what kind of boat you drive".  While this is very true, I still had to be able to get to the fish first!

While it was monumentally aggravating at the time, a lot of funny things happened to that boat.  I'll never forget the time when, with a simple tap of the trolling motor pedal, the entire trolling motor shaft fell into the water and I was forced to fish it out by the cables.  Or the time I heard a horrible thumping in the floor of my boat during a tournament and found my fish flopping around in my livewells without a single drop of water.  Or the time that the windshield almost decapitated me.  And let us also not forget the fishing trip when my engine wouldn't stop mysteriously tilting up and down, leaving me with a dead battery.  That boat had some bat voodoo!

The never-ending frustration and financial woes continued for roughly two years, until I was eventually in a position to be able to sell it and upgrade to my current boat.  With as much animosity as I had towards that boat, it taught me a lot.

In many of life's adventures, we must earn our stripes and work our way up from the bottom. Things get tough and money gets tight, but if you want something bad enough, you have to make it work.  There is no other option.  Don't complain.  Either accept your circumstances and move on, or make a conscious decision to take the initiative to improve your current situation.  Sure, there were days that I wanted to sink that Ranger and make a new fish attractor out of it, but in the long run it helped me appreciate what I am blessed to have today.  It also, in a way, helped me relax as a fisherman.  I learned to laugh when I had problems with it, and when every boat in the tournament would speed past me at blast off.  That's all I could do -- there was no sense in getting mad.  I didn't have the money to make it perfect, so I just accepted it and concentrated on fishing.

I firmly believe that nothing worth having comes easy, and sometimes that means swallowing your pride, going a measly 40 miles per hour, having your trolling motor fall off, getting stranded in the middle of tournaments, and looking like a big fat goober for a while.  Just keep on truckin' and don't ever let foolish pride get in the way of your wildest dreams -- I'm glad I didn't.