N . . . nudge. A little touch goes a long way, especially on low-gravity days. Marjorie B. McAllister nudges self-unloading bulker Atlantic Superior away from the dock where Alice sometimes offloads.
Margaret Moran tails MSC Ancona, ready to drive the stern to starboard for the bend in the KVK. Is that graffiti on the base of the mustard-colored stack?
Miriam Moran shadows Carnival Miracle, white sheet in place on the bow fendering, in case the passenger vessel needs a smither of propelling as she eases into the dock.
Gramma Lee T. Moran trails Ever Refine, lest some thrust is called for.
Marie Turecamo, wedged under the flaring bow of MSC Endurance, stands by to shove as needed to keep the hull in the channel.
Nudge . . . I can do do it; as I can guide or shove. And . . I need nudges myself sometimes, maybe even often. Of course, many gradations of pressure–lateral or longitudinal– exist from almost imperceptible to measurable on the Richter scale. It’s been a bunch of decades since I last shoved someone with testosterone rage. Nudges may range from super-tactile to mildly-so to verbal to even non-verbals. Non-verbals are my favorite, although I’m as fond of mock-combat as the next randy boy, so shove me if you wish; just keep a smile on your face, and don’t be surprised if I shove you back. Oh . . . and you’re near water . . . soft wet landings make me jolly. Nudge when it’s consensual . . like the 1980’s dance called the “bump.” Nudging and bumping have their place; it could never happen here though, atop the future pedestrian bridge in Poughkeepsie.
But then again, I’m jollier when we just team up with no nudging required.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.