Dawn was still two hours away when the old man parked his Jeep and set off through the fields of wind-grass for the sea. On the rocky Massachusetts beach, he used a pebble to hone the three hooks hanging from a cigar-shaped yellow plug with a red nose. Then, peering out at the dark water from under his long-billed fisherman's cap, he began to cast. In gentle, precise rhythm, his rod whipped back and forth until he lifted a leathery thumb from the reel and the plug soared 190 ft. out into the Atlantic....
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