My family was awaiting the birth of our second child, taking her own sweet time as her due date came and went. The baby clothes were sorted, the furniture arranged, the meals cooked and my mother-in-law, Vickie, was on hand. It was the calm before the storm, and all we could do is wait.

Knowing I wasn't going to sail much this season with a new baby in the house, I resolved to focus on some boat projects I have put off for years. At the top of my list was learning to sew, a skill that opens up all kinds of possibilities for a sailor looking to upgrade his boat. Covers, cushions, dodgers and even sails might be in reach.

My early forays into the art did not go well. Years ago, I tried to sew plastic zippers into vinyl cockpit cushions, an effort that resulted in uneven stitching, broken needles and bunched thread. One of my sailing buddies, trying to put a positive spin on things, noted, " you never really see the zippers anyway."

This time, however, I had a block of time to concentrate – at least until the baby arrived – and a private tutor living in the spare room. I was optimistic.

THE VINTAGE SINGER

Adam GonzalezVintage sewing machines like the one pictured here, which belonged to the author's mother, can work well if they are kept in good condition.

Adam Gonzalez

The goal was to update and color-match the canvas on the boat, including winch covers, lifeline cushion covers and maybe a tiller cover. I had recently salvaged a bimini frame from a boat graveyard and had a forest green cover made for it at a local canvas shop, figuring I wasn't ready to do such a big job myself. I later went back to the shop for some scraps of matching canvas to play with. For $40 they gave me a huge pile of remnants and a hefty sized spool of thread, so I had plenty of material.

Like many before me, I have drooled over those Sailrite sewing machines that cost hundreds of dollars and can shoot thread through eight layers of canvas. But with price very much an object, I hauled out my mom's 60s-era Singer. I knew Vickie could give me a few pointers on how to use it. I also knew it was a well-worn path. Many sailors look to older sewing machines, with their larger motors and metal casings, as a cheap and reliable alternative to expensive new equipment.

Besides, I like vintage. My house is mid-century modern, almost 50 years old; my sailboat Mystique is a 1966 Islander 29; and I liked cars when they had fins. It's debatable whether times were simpler, but certainly machines were simpler, which means someone like me might actually be able to troubleshoot, fix and use them (provided I can get parts). My abilities pale in comparison to those of my father, who was a master of keeping anything going long past its dumpster due-date. Since his passing in December, I was feeling a little uninspired, so having a few moments to glean some sewing machine savvy from my mother-in-law seemed like a good idea.

The owner's manual for the Singer had long since been lost, but being a guy I knew it was good and proper to stumble around and try to figure things out by trial and error. The machine itself has a cast aluminum chassis and a body painted tan and cream, with no model number in sight. All the frames, shafts and gears are metal, with a pretty heavy-duty motor. The machine had been gathering dust in a downstairs cupboard since my last attempt at sewing, and Vickie's brow grew a bit stitched when I pulled the machine out of its hiding place. "Oooh, I don't know about this machine," she said in her Italian accent. I knew we were going to have fun.

NEW COVERS, NEW SKILLS

First we worked on setting the tensions correctly, so that the thread coming up from the bottom (the bobbin) and the thread coming down from the top (the needle) were evenly matched. When we ran a few pieces of canvas through, she noted the machine needed some oil in a few spots and showed me where those were. She was impressed I knew which needles to use (jeans weight). Then she asked me what project we were going to do.Projects abound on any boat, including dodgers, biminis, line bags, lee cloths and covers for sails, dinghy, outboard, tiller, wheel and almost anything else.

I felt ready to take on something challenging so I suggested we try to copy a winch cover. We took apart one I had taken from Mystique (torn and the wrong color, hence the need for replacement). After laying out all the pieces, and ironing out the folds, we pinned them down on the new canvas and began cutting.

We then pinned the new pieces together and started sewing (hint: pin head goes toward you and point goes toward the machine, so you don't poke your fingers when you pull the pins out). Immediately, we could see this was going to be more complex than I had first thought. Sewing a round top into anything requires a lot of small adjustments called pleats in the fabric, which can be tedious. But we forged ahead.

Some seams had to be torn out and done over, and sometimes a new piece had to be made. But it didn't matter– it was all scrap material. The trickiest part for me was thinking about things inside out, because the surface I was working on would eventually be the inside of the cover. All told we spent maybe 3 hours on the project, and the result was amazing. Our new cover was well made, properly fit and color matched, yet it had cost almost nothing.The author began by sewing canvas covers for winches and cushions, but he has ambition. The next step is a sail cover, then the big dream: sewing his own genoa.

After lunch the next day, with my wife still thinking of last minute things we needed to do, Vickie and I shot each other a mischievous smile and disappeared downstairs again to see what lay ahead. Having finished one winch cover, the second went much more quickly and easily. We then moved on to the cushion covers.

What I had were some basic lifeline covers from West Marine, also the wrong color and starting to fade. This time, we took measurements and drew them on a new piece of canvas using a yellow colored pencil borrowed from my three year old. We made some modifications so they would look better and fit more easily over the cushion material, and we added some cord so we could tie them instead of using Velcro. The cushion covers went together very easily and with each project I felt more confident, sewing straighter lines and learning to finesse the fabric better. Like any skill, you get better with practice. I had to wait a while before I could try out my creations on the boat, but they sure made her look terrific when I finally put them to use.

Armed with this new knowledge and experience–and with guidance just a phone call away–I'm now setting my sights on sewing a mainsail cover this winter. But my real dream is more ambitious: creating a new genoa sail for Mystique. Maybe I can convince my mother-in-law to come back for a visit.