My only complaint about my 12′ MirroCraft is that it’s a little cramped.
Although I usually go to the lake alone, I thought it would be nice, once in a while, to invite a buddy along without worrying about snagging a hook in his ear or, if he was of any size at all, about foundering the boat under our combined weights.
So it was that less than a year after buying my first boat I started checking the listings again. I was looking for another MirroCraft–but bigger–since I knew and trusted that brand. I thought a 16-footer would be about right.
Unfortunately, none were available, at least not in my price range. I eventually widened my search and found this 1976 14′ Gregor all-welded aluminum boat online.
It had a deeper v-hull and was broader in the beam than the MirroCraft, so I decided I could live with a 14-footer. The Gregor company, though now out of business, proved–like MirroCraft–to have a loyal following among boat owners.
The price was right and, as a bonus, the owner had good title and registration for both the boat and trailer–not necessarily a show-stopper if he didn’t, but having them in hand would vastly simplify the process.
I drove over to check it out.
As it turned out, this Gregor was not lake-ready. Although the hull itself was sound, with what looked to be some professionally-welded patches, the supporting wood in the transom was rotted and the aluminum there was cracked. The seller, who’d originally bought the boat as a fixer-upper himself, said the guy he got it from had run a 20 hp motor on it–the maximum rated for this nearly 50-year-old boat.
Along the way someone had tried to braze the cracks shut, without success. By way of a fix, he’d then sandwiched the transom between thick metal sheets, which kept his motor from ripping itself off the boat outright but did nothing to address the worsening cracks in the aluminum transom.
All of the hardware he’d used on the transom–and throughout the boat–was badly corroded.
The wooden bench seats were missing, and the inside of the boat was covered with carpet glue where he’d attempted a partial bass boat conversion. There was rusting hardware and holes drilled in the hull where he’d braced a forward casting deck.
Finally, I asked the seller if the boat leaked. He said he didn’t think so–it held plenty of rainwater during the spring.
The trailer, while functional, would need work too. To start with, it used a 1 7/8″ hitch vs. the standard 2″, so if I bought the boat I’d have to go buy a new ball just to tow the damned thing home.
The old-style light connection didn’t match the one on my car, the winch and stand was rusted and frail-looking, and the trailer, bunks and all, didn’t fit the boat.
The seller had put two new wheels and tires on the trailer, but told me the spare wouldn’t hold air.
If alarms are going off in your head as you read this, congratulations on your boat savvy. Obviously, this all gave me pause…
But it wasn’t my first boat, and this time around I wasn’t in a hurry to get it onto the water. In the meantime, I looked forward to fixing it up just the way I wanted it.
Having gained experience refurbishing the MirroCraft I figured I’d be better able to address this boat’s flaws: the ones I knew about AND the ones I’d–inevitably–discover along the way.
If not, and it ended up being a junker, I told myself I’d sniffle a little, then dry my tears and chalk it up to learning.
In the meantime, I told the man I’d take it.
I was now the owner of a real “project boat.’
1972 trailer rehab
Trailer rehab was familiar territory since I’d done it before.
As soon as I got the boat home we lifted it off the trailer. Then I sprayed everything off with a power washer, removing decades worth of dirt and loose paint.
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Setting the boat aside and turning to the trailer, I stripped it down and went to work.
I inspected the axle first since I’d had to replace the one on my ShoreLand’r trailer, but this one was fine. The bearings and races on the wheels looked OK, too, but I decided to replace them just in case.
I used all the tricks I’d learned doing this before but found, as always, that one of the races had to be coaxed out using excessive force.
I decided to replace the rickety-looking winch and winch stand, and saw that moving it further forward would place the boat correctly onto the bunks.
Speaking of which, I had a couple of 2″x4″s to use for new bunks so I cut them to 6′ and sealed them with enamel spray paint while waiting for the rest of the supplies to arrive.
After assembling the bunks, I once again added a set of Caliber bunk end caps ordered from Essenbay Marine.
After inspecting the tires and wheels, I sent away for a 4.80-8 spare (they’re usually sold in pairs, but I was lucky enough to find a single for sale that week) and mounting bracket.
One of the rubber rollers on the trailer was in bad shape, too. The replacement I ordered didn’t have axle bearings, so I fabricated some by drilling out old .45 brass. I suspect that brass will corrode quickly once it gets wet, so I’ll keep an eye on it.
I found this ID label under a layer of old paint. It identifies the trailer as a 1972 Ward Sea-King, which–obviously–didn’t originally belong to my 1976 Gregor boat.
I got the worst of the rust of off the trailer frame with an orbital sander, then applied a coat of self-etching primer and two coats of black enamel spray paint.
I reattached all of the hardware, including some new safety chains and a set of LED lights. I ordered extra wiring frame clips since the back end of the trailer is open (vs. a closed tube), exposing the wires.
I used the same insulation overkill as I did on the ShoreLand’r lights.
I’m still not sure if I’m going to put a trailer jack on it, but probably will. Harbor Freight has this one for a very reasonable price…
In the meantime, that old trailer cleaned up nicely.
Now it was time to start work on the boat!