Their ultimate destination rested in Slip 15 at the yacht club, a boat that John couldn’t pick out as they walked down the pier.

"’Ere ye go, Scooter, doesn’t she bring back memories?" Mel finally said, pointing out a dilapidated, 25-foot, wooden craft that lay just in front of them. It was no wonder John hadn’t seen it before - it was half as big as the fancy yachts and speedboats that surrounded it.

Where there was paint, it was chipped and withered, including faded white cursive letters on the tail that proclaimed the sorry hunk to be The Dairy Queen. One of the four portholes was busted out while another was covered with cardboard and duct tape.