Every economic argument for retiring the old ferry has been correct, and every one of them has lost. It burns too much fuel, its hull has been patched more times than anyone can count, and the spare parts arrive by mail from a foundry that no longer advertises. Yet at 6:12 each morning it pulls away from the north pier, on time more often than the newer boat that was supposed to replace it.
Why the numbers never win
Officials have twice commissioned studies recommending withdrawal. Both studies were thorough, and both underestimated the same thing: the crossing is not really about crossing. It is about the twenty-two minutes in between, which several generations have used to trade news, sell eggs, and settle arguments that would otherwise fester.
- Commuters who say the newer boat is faster but colder.
- A knitting group that has met on the port-side bench since before the group had a name.
- A retired engineer who checks the bilge pumps out of habit and, some say, out of love.
We spent three weeks aboard, watching the same faces board in the same order. The pattern is a small institution disguised as a schedule.
The vessel will be replaced eventually; steel does not last forever. But the question worth asking is not whether the ferry can be saved. It is whether whatever comes next can be built to hold twenty-two minutes as well as this one does.
Related: The Working Day · the bakery that still sleeps by day
Further reading: How ferries work
