On the main deck, there’s a huge lounge forward, flanked by convenient fender and line stowage compartments. Doors in these compartments provide access to the backside of the lower helm for electronics maintenance. The table, settee and sun pad are inviting, but if this were my yacht, I think I’d spring for the optional Bimini top, which folds into its own stowage space. On the other hand, if you want shade, there’s another table and two benches on the afterdeck, under the overhang of the flying bridge. An additional sun pad resides here as well, atop the tender stowage compartment, with gate-protected steps on either side down to the oversize swim platform. The platform protects the big ZF SeaRex surface drives that so efficiently turn horsepower into knots for this 92-foot speedster.
Up the hatch-protected stairway to port is the flying bridge, a feature that is not readily apparent from the profile of the yacht. That’s even truer now that streamlined fiberglass moldings, styled and gelcoated to blend into the bridge sides, have superseded the stainless-steel railings of earlier builds. The bridge’s helm folds up for use and down for a sleeker appearance at other times, and the back of the helm seat swings forward hydraulically to create additional seating at the table, or down completely to create another sun pad. An immense U-shape settee surrounds the high-low table, and if you reverse the helm seat, the area can accommodate up to 13 guests.
I could go on and on about the clever folding/sliding bulkhead at the after end of the salon — it opens completely at the touch of a button — about the fitted drawers for the Christofle crystal and flatware, and about the good traffic flow patterns and clever space utilization. They’re all important points, but they’re not what’s truly at the heart of the Pershing 92.
What I remembered best, at the end of the day, was Rich Jones, Ferretti’s senior corporate captain, suggesting with a smile that I let go of the wheel and grab the tiny joystick that sat unobtrusively at the center of the console. Wheeeee! I was instantly back in my D Class hydroplane, but this was a 92-foot, 90-ton missile hurtling across Biscayne Bay at a little north of 50 miles per hour. Far faster than I could ever spin the wheel, the stick swung the drives from side to side for turns that threatened to blow out the props and send us into a spin, but didn’t. The 92 was carving donuts as though she were a PWC, so much so that the thought of wake-jumping crossed my mind: But there are, after all, limits to my insanity. Quite simply, it was — as my grandchildren would say — one of the “funnest” days I’ve had in a long, long time. Thanks, Pershing, for a boat capable of reminding me that the heart of a kid still beats inside.
Pershing Yachts, 954-462-5527