When I was six, my grandfather convinced me to go sailing with him. Not just sailing, but racing. It was his
passion and he wanted to share it with me. He sailed long skinny boats called Two-Tens and raced every weekend in the summer on the North Shore of Massachusetts.
My grandfather sensed my hesitation to go with him. The whole thing would take up more than half the day, and I was unsure about being any farther from land than a swim away and also about tipping over.
“It’ll be fun,” he told me. “I promise this boat will never flip. It can’t. It is physically impossible.” (more…)