ANYONE WHO'S had to take care of one appreciates the truism about boats: The best moments in a boat owner's life are the day he buys one, then the day he sells it.

Having just put my little runabout away for the season, I'd add a corollary: Some solace is found each year when the time comes to tuck one away for the winter.

I can't complain about our little craft, which performed admirably this summer as we navigated the Potomac River from Fairview Beach to the Yeocomico River in Westmoreland County.

It started when I turned the key, moved when I shoved the throttle and didn't leak the first trickle.

But as any of my water-bound brethren would tell you, there's no such thing as a boat that doesn't always need some sort of fixing or maintenance.

On some boats, the work that beckons would make Hercules wonder if they're worth it.

Wooden boats constantly need scraping, sanding, varnishing and painting.

Industrious boat owners who want to save a small fortune do much of that work themselves. They're the ones you see stretched out under a sailboat or cruiser, coating themselves and the ground with a fine dust of paint and stinking barnacles from the grinder they sweep along the hull.

And don't even ask about the care and feeding of varnished wood. It becomes a second profession.

Those of us who have a craft of Fiberglas count our nonvarnished blessings, but even on our gel-coated craft there's always something.

Like cover snaps that pop off railings or from the hull itself. A radio that won't play. An antenna that doesn't want to come up. Gauges that rattle and crack. Fittings that fall off.

Not to mention carpet that's slowly disintegrating from below and rust that creeps into every metal part not sprayed with preservative.

Through the years, I've learned to simply ignore many of the problems, but some of them have a way of demanding action.

Like the fitting that fell off, trying to take the little sun cover with it.