I located our test steed at a packed South Florida marina. This was a number of years ago, but I still remember feeling excited. The big multihull gleamed under the morning light with her passerelle extended to the pier, welcoming me aboard.

In short order, I met the broker and asked if I could go through the boat to get my bearings before we headed offshore. He agreed with a nod, never taking the mobile phone from his ear. Just behind me, our photographer set up his equipment before the sun got too high in the sky.

The boat was a new 60-something-footer from an overseas shipyard looking to make a splash stateside. She was gorgeous, with miles of teak on her decks, Carrara marble in the galley and heads, and a commodious salon bathed in light.

As we made our way to the flybridge, the broker’s enthusiasm was infectious. He shared the plans for a robust marketing push, along with digital renderings of models that would round out the builder’s offerings.

I set myself up beneath the flybridge’s hardtop, noting that the flapping of the American flag atop the marina’s chandlery had picked up in intensity. Our captain soon arrived and got us off the dock for the trek through no-wake zones to get to open water. The four of us were gathered on the flybridge as we entered notorious Haulover Inlet, which was a confused mess.

We pushed onward. Offshore, we blasted through 6-foot seas. Things seemed pretty normal, even given the conditions.

Then, two things happened that would shape the rest of the day.

First was a dreadful banging noise coming from below. The captain slowed and pointed our bow into the wind. We went down to investigate. As we stood in the cockpit, we heard the banging again, now just below our feet. What we couldn’t see was that the PWC, suspended between the pontoons, was bashing against each side. A broken cable left us helpless to stop its swinging. The captain tried to jury-rig the machine to protect the hull, but it was too risky to get on the swim steps in the sporty conditions.

Soon we were beam-to, and the catamaran was roiling. We all stayed below while the captain got up to the flybridge and turned her back toward the inlet. The big multihull gave it her best, but we were getting thrashed.

It was then that the starboard engine cut out.

As we limped back to the marina on one engine, I stayed in the cockpit with the photographer, who swore that he saw the hardtop shuddering on its supports. I wanted off this boat, fast.

Once we were safely tied up at the marina, we looked between the pontoons. The PWC had punched a series of holes through the gelcoat, thoroughly damaging the boat.

We said our goodbyes with the intention of coming back to retest the boat once the issues were resolved, but we were never reunited. Soon after our disastrous sea trial, the Great Recession all but ended the builder’s chances in the United States.

For some reason, I can recall with great clarity the events of that day, but the builder’s name escapes me. I think it’s better that way.

This article was originally published in the October 2024 issue.