(Aside from the fact that the main sheet is all twisted, it's also fed through backwards. And it was not the 6 year old who rigged it that way - ahem!)
But then it happened. They caught a strong puff and were off. And I heard put-put-put-sputter... silence. The stinkin' outboard died. I took a deep breath, went through all of the usual trouble shooting rituals, steadied myself on my knees, and pulled. No luck. I tried and tried (getting crampy all the while), but just didn't have the umph required to fire her up. Rowing home in my condition is just not an option. I hailed some passing kayakers who towed me to a near by dock where I tied off and called Doug. It took a while because heck, it was a beautiful day and they were off sailing. I had water. I wasn't drifting anymore. I waited.
And finally they were home and had two hands free to answer my call. They had to commandeer a neighbor's dinghy and come to my rescue. I was really, REALLY hoping it was a mechanical problem and not me. But Doug hopped in, pulled it twice, and vrooooom!
(Old Faithful. We have had this outboard since before we went cruising back in 2001. It has taken us on many adventures and even saved us from being stranded on an uninhabited island on our former boat in the Bahamas. With the help of fun loving friends and lots of rum and paint, she got the groovy paint job before we started cruising. It's supposed to be crazy looking enough to be a deterrent to outboard thieves.)
Tail between my legs we motored home in tandem. No more solo dinghy rides for me this month.