Conversations in the Car
- 21 hours ago
- 4 min read
If Parents on the Pontoon was about letting go, then Conversations in the Car explores what happens in the in-between — the drives to training, the long roads to regattas, the salty, sunburnt rides home. These everyday journeys become the emotional rhythm of a young sailor’s life.
Almost every sailing parent will agree: some of the most meaningful moments in this sport happen not on the water, not on the dock, not at the medal ceremony — but in the car. The car becomes a tiny world where children speak freely, fall silent, think deeply, laugh loudly, and occasionally fall asleep within minutes.
The pontoon tests their independence.
The car tests our parenting.
THE QUIET DRIVE
It’s a familiar scene: early morning, still dark, you’re clutching your coffee while your child sits in the back seat, half awake, sunscreen smudged, hair tied up, staring out the window.
You ask, “All set?”
They reply, “Hmm.”
They’re processing — nerves, excitement, a coach’s comment from yesterday, a worry about capsizing, a hope for improvement. Silence in the car is not empty. It’s full of everything they don’t yet have the words for.
Sometimes the kindest thing we can do is let the silence be.
THE POST-REGATTA DRIVE
Post-race car rides come in two varieties.
The first is the happy one — full of chatter, analysis, laughter, and the familiar, “Do we have snacks?”
The second is the heavy one — the quiet drive where your sailor stares out the window after a tough day on the water. This is when parents instinctively try to fix it:
“What happened at the start?”
“Why didn’t you tack earlier?”
It comes from care, but to a tired child, it can feel like criticism. Often, what they need to hear is simple:
“You fought hard today.”
“We’ll talk later.”
“I’m proud of how you handled yourself.”
“What do you want to eat?”
Food and a safe space work faster than analysis ever will.
THE PRE-TRAINING PEP TALK
Between sunscreen reminders and “Did you pack your gloves?” a window opens — a small, unexpected moment when your child asks something real:
“Do you think I’m getting better?”
“What if everyone improves faster than me?”
“What if I let the coach down?”
This is not the moment for technical advice or tactical breakdowns. This moment is for belief.
“You’re improving every week.”
“You learn faster than you think.”
“You never disappoint me.”
“Winning isn’t the point — growing is.”
One sentence, said at the right time, can carry them for months.
THE DEEP CONVERSATIONS ON THE WAY HOME OR AT HOME
Something about the back seat gives children permission to open up.
Between speed bumps and traffic signals, they reveal their fears, hopes, and dreams in a way they rarely do face-to-face.
“I get nervous before the start.”
“I love sailing, you know.”
“I want to win one day.”
“I’m scared sometimes.”
These are gifts — small windows into their inner world. They don’t need perfect answers. They need presence.
“I hear you.”
“I’m with you.”
“You’re not alone.”
THE LAUGH-OUT-LOUD MOMENTS
Not every car ride is emotional. Some are pure comedy.
Someone forgot their spraytop.
Someone spilled Enerzal.
Someone’s playlist is unacceptable by any global standard.
Someone is reenacting a capsize like a movie stunt sequence.
These silly rides, full of teasing and laughter, become the memories they carry into adulthood. They may forget a finishing position in Race 2, but they’ll never forget laughing uncontrollably in the back seat with salty hair and tired legs.
THE ASLEEP-IN-5-MINUTES DRIVE
This is every coach and parent’s favourite.
The long ride home when your sailor’s head droops, their eyes shut, and within minutes, they’re fast asleep.
Salt on their skin.
Sunscreen on their clothes.
Fingers blistered.
A deep, content exhaustion.
It’s the purest reflection of a day well lived. A quiet little portrait of childhood.
THE REAL POINT
The car is not a commute. It is a container for growth — a moving space where children feel safe enough to share, to laugh, to process, to fail, to dream, to be themselves.
If the pontoon is where kids learn independence, the car is where they learn resilience, reflection, humour, patience, and heart.
And years later, when they look back on their sailing journey, the rides will stand out. Not the logistics. Not the gear. Not the rushing. But the moments. The music. The conversations. The safe silence. The shared joy.
They will remember you.
Showing up.
Driving them.
Being there in the most ordinary, beautiful way.
This is sailing.
Not just the wind and the waves,
but everything around it —
especially the car.
FOR PARENTS WHO DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT SAILING
Sailing can feel overwhelming when you’re new — strange terminology, unfamiliar drills, unpredictable weather, coach briefings that sound like another language. Here’s the good news:
You don’t need to know sailing to support a child who sails.
The car is where you can participate fully, even without understanding the racecourse.
You don’t need technical knowledge. You need emotional presence and consistency.
What non-sailing parents give beautifully:
Calm before a race.
Reassurance after a bad day.
Listening without analysing.
Humour that breaks tension.
Consistency in routine.
Belief when their confidence dips.
A safe place to express fear.
A soft place to land.
A strong place to grow.
SAIL GURU GYAN — From Coach to Parent
“Not every car ride needs coaching. Some just need listening.”
“Sail awareness” isn’t only about wind, waves, and pressure. It is also about emotional awareness — of your child, their state of mind, and the pace at which they are growing.
When you stay calm, listen, and hold space, you build a sailor who can unpack a loss, absorb a lesson, own a mistake, regulate their emotions, and bounce back without fear.
Kids love teaching their parents the sport. Let them explain it in their own words — it gives them ownership and pride.
You’re not the coach. You’re not the race officer.
You’re the anchor.
And anchors don’t need to know how to sail. They just need to hold steady.
A child who feels safe in the car or at home becomes brave on the water.
That is your superpower.
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