The East Coast got swell. Not a huge swell, but we got swell. And it came in July, which is usually only good for messing around on a Hawaiian Punch raft. Most swells for Florida to Maine are a one-night stand, a three-hour long sprint of passion with a beautiful mistress, gone in the morning. But Hurricane Bertha wasn't the type of girl to give one night of fun and run, never to call again. She hung around, made herself breakfast, and chilled around our swell window. She wasn't the flashiest ...

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