As I sit here in the melting snows of winter I face a summer dilemma: I have to buy a new boat. And not just any boat, but one that can transport six or eight people or a chest of drawers or even a refrigerator or sheets of dry wall.

If you are a boating person you will understand why this is such a problem. Simply put, I am looking at sticking my hand in my pocket and pulling out something like $30,000. Maybe as little as $25,000 if I’m lucky. Except that when I stick my hand in my pocket all I find is dust motes and gum wrappers.

By now I sense I am losing your sympathy. If this guy needs something that floats, why doesn’t he settle for a rowboat or even an inflatable inner tube. Believe me, I would be delighted to do that.

Trouble is, I have a cottage and I don’t need a boat to witlessly pull children around the lake on water toys: I need a boat just to get to my cottage. Because it is on an island. Three miles from the marina and that’s a long way to swim towing a sack of groceries on an air mattress.

When we bought the cottage years ago, it came with a mildly banged up inboard of an intimidating size. So inept was I as a driver that I only used it to go back and forth to the marina; and so foolish was I that I thought it would live forever. I was wrong.

It came with a number of defects but I thought I could live with them. For example, the gas gauge was stuck on empty, the convertible top was missing a few pieces and the bilge pump pumped water in, not out. Even with my limited knowledge I knew this last bit wasn’t good, so I had the pump fixed. And then at the same time the same person fixed the gas gauge so that it now always reads full.

The boat served me for a number of years with only the usual problems that afflict boats — I kept bending the prop on hidden rocks, the battery always ran down, the lights were not reliable and sometimes, when I pulled out the gear lever to start the boat, the whole apparatus fell into my lap.

But by applying money to these problem areas that boat and I kept sailing on. Then, things got worse. First, the motor developed a high-pitched scream when it started up. Second, (although I guess this should be first) it took 20 or so tries to get it started. That is a fixable event when you are docked at the marina but it gives pause on a Sunday night when you are trying to leave your island. Third, that boat kept slipping out of gear: one moment I would be bounding over the waves with my high-pitched scream and the next I would be becalmed.

Fourth, when I stepped into the boat last spring, my foot went right through the floor, which is not a good thing in boats. Fifth, when I peered into the motor compartment to see if perhaps the high-pitched scream was caused by a trapped beaver, I noticed a crack in the engine block. That was the straw (actually, more of a giant wrench) that broke the boat’s back and we finally parted company.

Then, as I looked at boat prices over the winter, I began to realize what a bargain my boat had been even though it was beyond trustworthy. Even old used boats were expensive and if I could borrow the money to buy one I might well end up with someone else’s problem child. New boats were sure to be more reliable but they cost the earth and came with strange devices such as fish finders and stereos and DVD players. All alien to my way of life.

So here I sit with my dilemma. I do have a canoe, but I can’t fit a refrigerator into it or more than a couple of people. And even though I am handy with a paddle, I’m not good for a couple of round trips to the marina.

The only solution I’ve come up with so far — short of taking out a cottage mortgage to buy a boat — is to use my floating dock. It came here a few years ago pushed across the lake by a six horsepower motor. And a small motor is a lot cheaper than a large boat.

@page_break@The main — but not the only — problem is elapsed time. In the time it takes to push a large dock across a large lake you would eat up most of your summer weekend.

Truly, I have a dilemma. If I solve it, I’ll let you know. IE