I genuinely like used boats. I love browsing the brokerage listings, imagining where these boats have been, what they’ve seen and where I could go.

But the real treat is whatever the previous owners have left me. Stepping aboard a boat that’s only new to me is like opening that one box under the Christmas tree that no one admits to leaving. And, even better than that Christmas present, the boat is a gift that goes on giving as you settle aboard.

As just one example, I am addicted to mysteries and spy tales. Many years ago, I realized the solution to searching for books to take on trips was to open a mystery-book store. This was back in the day when there were small, privately owned bookstores that weren’t part of corporate conglomerates that bought books by the ton and were able to slash the prices.

My shop, Sherlock’s Home, was a hole-in-the-wall with a British-inspired decor: green carpet, varnished bookshelves and a dark window in a corner with a faux breeze that rustled the curtains and emitted an occasional distant howl a la The Hound of the Baskervilles.

Over a few years, I built a reputation for having hard-to-find mystery books: first editions, signed copies, leather-bounds. I had customers flying in from nearly every state to shop. I decided I needed something mysterious to pick them up at the airport. So, on one of our buying trips to England, a Vanden Plas Princess followed me home (I’m also a car nut). It was huge at 18 feet long, it was black, and the Queen Mother loved hers. 

During my first cleaning after it arrived, I made a discovery. Under the carpets were hundreds of slips of paper, as well as torn notes with scribbled directions. It took a while, but I finally figured out that my limo had been used for weddings. The penciled directions were where the bride and groom were picked up, and the churches where they were to be delivered. 

But the other slips took more time. That’s because most Americans know about bookies, but we don’t have betting shops. William Hill and BoyleSports were unfamiliar to me, but the names were on the little slips. I realized that the driver of my limo must’ve dropped off the wedding party and then zipped down to the betting shop to put a few bob on the ponies. And my limo was filled with his bad choices. 

Similar things happen with used yachts. Open the first drawer you see as you climb aboard for the first time, and I absolutely guarantee that you will find something totally inexplicable.

Some of my finds over the years include a screwdriver with a cross-shaped tip that fits nothing on the boat (it was a Pozidriv for screws found on German cars and IKEA furniture); the coupling for the air pump to the inflatable tender that the owner didn’t leave with the boat; a carbon-dioxide cartridge that doesn’t fit any PFD known to West Marine; the connector end for trailer wiring (this was a non-trailerable 40-footer); a half-empty bottle of Viagra, long past its expiration date; a plastic baggie full of beer-bottle caps; a pink thong, waist 52, left under a berth; and a plastic baggie full of diesel fuel.

I’ve talked to friends who also look forward to the gifts left behind by former owners. They agree that, like mine, most of their finds have been simply baffling. 

Personally, I’ve carefully saved a few of my finds in the garage. I plan to salt my current boat when I sell it, much like crooked miners would salt a barren mine with gold nuggets. 

Part of the fun is going to be deciding where everything goes.

This article originally appeared in the July/August 2025 issue of Passagemaker magazine.