I was recently wandering the quaint, quiet streets of St. Michael's, Maryland, at dusk. At my side were my niece, Elizabeth, a freshly minted graduate of Northwestern University, and one of her closest friends, Kelly, recently graduated from Princeton.

We had just finished dinner at the Town Dock restaurant – a lavish affair including freshly made gazpacho, shrimp, oysters, rockfish and, of course, crab – and were walking off some of that coconut cheesecake on our way back to our rented slip at Higgins Yacht Yard. All in all, it was a satisfying midpoint on the post-graduation sailing celebration that marked their last days of freedom before heading off to their first "real" jobs in Chicago and Boston.

We rounded the corner and came upon Mystique, my 1966 Islander 29, and even though I've seen her a thousand times, I had to stop and admire just how beautiful she was. For the past year, I had been updating the canvas on the boat: new winch covers, a bimini top, cushion covers, and, my latest pride and joy, a new sail cover. The whole package had transformed a tired "good old boat" into a near-classic yacht. In fact, just after we had tucked Mystique in for the night, another boat slid into the slip next to us, and the gentleman piloting her complimented us on how good she looked. It was a far cry from the time a few years ago when my wife and I pulled into Maryland's Herrington Harbor marina and had the attendant look down his nose at us and ask, "Is that a rental?"

The author's new sail covers took some effort, but the experience was well worth it. How did this happen? Many, many hours of scrubbing and sanding and scraping and varnishing to get the big pieces right. But just as important, paying attention to some of the smaller details, like making sure all the canvas matched. I began sewing last year with smaller projects, which I wrote about in Learning to Sew, using my mother's old battle ax of a Singer. Since then, though, I had moved on to more ambitious goals. Specifically, I was aiming to make a new mainsail cover, replacing my beat-up old blue number with a clean-lined forest-green cover to match the rest of the new canvas. The job was going to be far more complex than those I had worked on thus far, requiring a machine better suited to the heavy canvas I would be sewing.

A BETTER MACHINE

Having attempted a big sewing job once (new zippers in vinyl seat cushions), I knew I had to have a sewing machine that would handle more layers of canvas and be able to "walk" the material through in an orderly fashion. Sailrite to the rescue. Maybe you've seen the company's ads in boating magazines, urging you to "sew it yourself, anyone can do it." I checked Sailrite out online, and then, since it had opened a store in nearby Annapolis, I thought I'd visit in person. I went armed with many questions and a basic idea of what I needed.

I prefer making big purchases with a wingman, just to make sure I don't do something really stupid, so I called Glen Justice – my friend, adviser and patron of this enterprise – and he agreed to join me. We met at lunchtime on a Wednesday. I arrived first, and as I walked through the door, I was impressed by the no-nonsense setup of the store. This was no fancy boutique, but rather a hard-working supply station for those ready to sew.

I was greeted by Dan Smith, a charming man who is both a master sewing guru and quintessential salesman. I say both because it's hard to say which description predominates. He did canvas work for many years for himself and friends and had gravitated to the Sailrite company, he explained, because he had used its product for so long with excellent results.

I explained my project, and Smith proceeded to lead me through the store, asking me questions about the length of the boom and the height of the mast, calculating the volume of the sail and pulling various items off the shelves that would complete the project. He showed me how to fold and stitch various parts of the cover, and discussed options like what kind of zipper to use and what sorts of clasps I would need to cinch the underside of the cover. He gave me tips such as adding extra length to the fabric because it would pucker when I ran long stitches.

After creating new sail covers, the author is pondering more complex projects -- like sails.MEET THE MONSTER

Then we talked about the sewing machine itself. The first thing to note is that the machine he showed me looks more like a power tool. It's heavy – weighing close to 50 pounds – with a heavy-duty motor, hard edges and all-metal construction. There are two models from which to choose: the Ultrafeed LS-1, which only sews straight stitches ($649), and the Ultrafeed LSZ-1, which can sew straight and zigzag ($849). Since I'm planning to sew sails for Mystique at some point, I opted for the LSZ-1.

Both versions come with the PowerPlus flywheel, which transfers the power of the motor to the inner workings of the machine, but I opted for the upgrade to the Monster II balance wheel, which helps the machine run more smoothly and makes it easier to crank the flywheel by hand (I used that feature a lot in my sail cover project). The machine comes in a rugged carrying case, built to take a sailor's abuse. By the time we were done with add-ons, taxes and the rest, the price topped out at about $1,200. One thing I balked on was purchasing the hot-knife attachment. But after dealing with fraying Sunbrella brand fabric for one too many days, I came to regret that decision, and rectified it by purchasing the knife, which trims with heat to seal the edges.

When Justice arrived, Smith went through the whole explanation process again, even though I was the one interested in the machine. He was patient and helpful with all our questions. He offered great support later when I was having trouble with the machine (troubles which were mainly caused by me), and even replaced parts free of charge.

Suffice it to say, I walked out with more than 50 pounds of merchandise in my arms and an itch to stitch.

After several hours of shopping, Justice and I felt some sort of celebration was in order. We wandered over to a nearby steakhouse and started a spirited discussion about upcoming projects we could take on using the new purchase. Our waitress, noticing but apparently mystified by the two tall and burly men in such jovial spirits who arrived a bit early for the dinner hour, asked what we were celebrating. We looked at her and, in all seriousness, said: "We just bought a sewing machine together!"

Hey, we're sailors. We've got nothing to prove.

SAILRITEThe author purchased the LSZ-1 from Sailrite to make his covers.