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I was becoming increasingly annoyed with the long wait for the club tender to return to the dock and bring me out to my boat. The dog-day heat was melting my freshly purchased ice and the launch was nowhere in sight. I dreamily gazed out at the fleet in the August haze and began to take a trip in the way-back machine of my mind. I drifted back to a sizzling day like this in the late 1950s when I was in my early teens.