We Went Boat Shopping. Florida Said “Hold My Hurricane.”
We bought a yacht after two hurricanes. Because—of course we did.
Some people call it a dream.
Living on a classic motor yacht in the Florida Keys.
Two bedrooms. Two baths.
A big aft master suite that feels like a floating apartment.
And yes, I can geek out on the specs of this 43-year-old beauty.
But at the time we bought her, “beauty” was more of a future tense.
When we first met her, she was a little tired.
Okay fine. She looked like she had been through some things.
But by the time we crossed under the bridge at Marathon Key?
She was a beauty.
She was ready.
And so were we.
The dream that kept coming back
When we first started designing our life, we kicked around options.
RV.
Boat.
Chevy Sonic.
Then house sitting came along and we thought, well… Chevy Sonic it is.
Because that’s what we had.
That’s the path.
Except, if you put us near water long enough, the boat idea comes back like a golden retriever with a tennis ball.
Again.
Again.
Again.
And after a year and a half in the desert during COVID, this Florida boy was not doing great without water.
Henderson, Nevada is wonderful.
But it is not the Keys.
It is not even close.
So we start ramping up house sitting again, heading across the country for the third time, eventually aiming for Florida.
And we decide to take a detour.
The Gulf Coast.
Which is funny, because I grew up an east coast Florida guy and had never once visited the “boring” Gulf Coast.
Sorry, Gulf Coasters.
That’s what us ocean dwellers called it.
I would like to officially state for the record:
I was wrong.
Also, the Gulf Coast has a way of changing your mind about things.
Like boats.
Linda starts “researching” and somehow we become experts
We are driving. We have time. We start talking.
Dreaming.
Scheming.
Accidentally making plans.
And you know what goes perfectly with bodies of water?
One guess.
BOATS.
So the boat idea is back on the table.
Linda is in the passenger seat, twiddling her thumbs.
She was not actually twiddling her thumbs.
She made me put that disclaimer in.
What she was actually doing was researching like a woman with a mission.
By the time we hit the Gulf Coast, we were experts in all things boats.
Kind of.
We knew enough to be dangerous.
And enough to annoy actual boat people.
The 78 degree rule meets hurricane season
We have a lifestyle rule.
We call it the 78-degree lifestyle rule.
It is exactly what it sounds like.
And like true professionals, we arrive in Florida in the fall.
You know what Florida does in the fall?
Temps cool down.
But you know what else?
Storms. Tropical storms. Hurricanes.
An occasional “hey friend, just checking in” from the Atlantic.
It should have been a sign.
It probably was a sign.
I was not looking for signs. Boats were involved.
Hurricane Ian came through in September and wrecked the Gulf Coast right before we arrived.
We had a house sit in St. Petersburg.
Then one down south on Marco Island.
Then Hurricane Nicole shows up at the beginning of November like, “Hi. Heard you were boat shopping.”
And I would like to note something very important.
Both of those hurricanes tore up the Gulf Coast.
The side I used to call boring.
The side I was now emotionally attached to.
Perfect.
The anniversary cruise, because we needed a break from reality
Right before Nicole made landfall, we did what any responsible adults would do.
We drove down to Miami and got on a cruise for our wedding anniversary.
Travel tip: The Caribbean weather is gorgeous after a hurricane goes by.
When we got back, the boats for sale were slim to none.
Because, you know.
They had been damaged.
Or sunk.
Or were now living in someone’s front yard.
But we kept looking.
Because apparently, most people stop boat shopping after two hurricanes hit the same state within a couple months.
Not us.
Nope.
The sad call that turned into our boat
Then our broker calls.
She says she wants to turn a sad story into a happy one.
A yacht owner had died.
The family lived in Iowa and did not know what to do with the boat.
And just like that, the universe, God, fate, whatever label you like, slides something across the table.
It was bigger than what we were looking for.
But it was the right price.
In the right location.
In the perfect marina.
And it came with something I secretly love more than the dream itself.
A project.
Plenty of work for me to do fixing her up.
SOLD.
And suddenly we owned a two-bedroom, two-bath condo on the water, across the street from the beach in Madeira Beach, Florida.
Except our condo floated.
So now we were those people.
Ten months of repair, sweat, and “what have we done”
Slightly worse bank account.
There is a saying every boat owner warns you about when you are looking to buy a boat:
“The happiest day of a boat owner’s life is the day they buy it and the day they sell it.”
I get it.
But honestly? I was happy for most of the in-between.
My wallet was not.
My wallet would like to speak to a manager.
Here is the part nobody romanticizes.
We spent the next ten months repairing, replacing, fixing, removing, and preparing.
If it could break, it did.
If it could leak, it tried.
If it could be replaced, we replaced it.
We learned a lot.
We learned new skills.
We learned new words.
We learned what kind of people we become when a bilge pump does something suspicious.
And of course, because Florida has a sense of humor, Hurricane Idalia had to come by and kiss us goodbye before we headed south.
Not a big kiss.
Just a little one.
Like Florida saying, “You sure?”
The day it all clicked into place
On October 31, 2023, we sailed under the bridge and into Boot Key Harbor in Marathon Key.
That date is not random.
It was eight years exactly to the day I retired from the church.
Eight years.
From stepping away from one life,
to living the next one on purpose.
And that moment felt like a full-circle kind of holy.
The storm that welcomed us, and the one we did not plan for
Two weeks later, a surprise tropical storm came through Boot Key Harbor.
Like a welcome hug.
A wet, violent welcome hug.
Linda was away for work.
So I got to ride that storm out on my own.
On a boat.
In a harbor.
On anchor.
With all the floating condo dreams and all the reality you do not see on Instagram.
And honestly?
It was scary.
And also, weirdly, one of those moments that marks you.
Like a line in the sand.
Before this, we were people who bought a boat.
After this, we were people who lived on one.
And if you are wondering how I handled it…
That is a whole story by itself. (Coming Soon)
Helmets optional. Detours allowed. Autopilot disengaged.
Thanks for coming along for the ride.
With love and laughter,
Matt & Linda
No 2 The Quo
Before We Had the Framework, We Had the Stories
We didn’t start No 2 The Quo with a tidy little life design model and a color-coded spreadsheet.
Shocking, I know.
We started with a few lived decisions. Big ones. Messy ones. The kind where you say, “This is probably fine,” while quietly wondering if you have lost your entire mind.
These three stories explain how we got here before we had the words Declaration of Intendependence™ to describe what we were doing.
These are the origin stories behind No 2 The Quo.
👉 Why We Said No 2 The Quo After the Kids Left Home
👉 It Took Two Years to “Suddenly” Change Our Lives
👉 Yes, We Really Did Pack Our Whole Life Into a Car and Leave
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