The Drake

Slow Down

HE DRONING HUM of an idling two-stroke is a wonderful way to start a morning. But I’m nervous. On the ride out, schools of redfish and mullet churn the water as we pass. My heart rate picks up when I come off plane and slow to the first spot. Sweaty palms and restless feet accompany my growing nerves, akin to asking that first girl to dance. “Fishing is supposed to be

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