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"It’s 3:50 a.m., your sipping hot
coffee while your bleary eyes scan the dark oceanfront. Your body curses you
for its lack of sleep. The waves are pounding the open beach as the
northeast wind is howling at your back. You put on your heavy
equipment, grab your rod and head into the rushing ocean. A quick cast
of your lure into the suds, and you smile for just a moment as your rod
suddenly jerks downward. You're in, the fight begins, you realize
you're now a Long Island surfcaster, and life is good."
Steve Knapik, 2002 |
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