My late father was a builder. I loved to ride along in his pick-up truck when he checked on his projects. To this day, being on-scene of a building project flings open treasured old memory files. Even a small dock. There are hammers, nails, and the chatter of young men. Buck looks on, as the blue tin roof is almost finished. The dock builders are part of a team of competitive speed skaters. It takes money for them to follow their bliss.