The boat was all buttoned up, the dock box locked, and everyone had left to shower, including Jim Cannon, our boat captain. I stood there with my wet sailing shoes in hand, and thought that rather than stuffing them into my backpack I’d stash them on the boat to dry overnight. I knew I couldn’t just leave them in the cockpit like I usually do on other boats. This particular veteran boat captain would never allow it. He’s responsible for the care and maintenance of the boat, to keep it looking pristine, and nothing irked him more than to have it look like Fred Sanford’s front yard. Nothing, I repeat, nothing personal remained on the boat.