No one stood on the dock-bidding their farewells, there was no one to say "remember when....", "what about the time..": in fact there was no notice at all as Sue and I pulled away from the dock with the Conquistador. We were on our way to Manzanillo where she would be loaded on Yachtpath for a trip to Ft Lauderdale where she would be for sale. The old trooper had been in dry dock for the last 2 years, as her owner and captain moved on to more exciting, faster, sleeker and abundant ladys. For the most part she was a forgotten warrior.
The trip was uneventful, a little swell in the face coming out the bay brought back memories of her drunken captain high aloft in the tower at 28 knots, screeming "she doesn't pound at all" this of course while you are trying to gather your formely embedded teeth from the cabin sole. When we turned down sea, she easily creeped up to nearly 30 knots showing off her past glory.
As I rode along, I thought about the exploits we had on this ship, the near record fish, the marlin slamming into the transom nearly impaling Shannon. And the parties, the endless booze, the parade of Ujena models who would litter the deck "tits to ass" from stem to stern, while I could only gawk and dream of younger days. At one time she was the hottest thing going in PV.
But now she has been loaded on a freighter with other veterans of the Pacific wars to move onto a life without the former days of glory, and sadly with few who bother to remember her tales. Her former captain has abandoned her without a fare thee well, so Sue and I wished her a Bon Voyage and sipped a coke in her memory.


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