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She is slow, wet, and tender, and that’s why I love her.  There is something about the way she feels when she drives to weather with a bone in her teeth.  Her motion is unlike any boats being built today.  Like a beautiful song, a poem , or a work of art, a true yacht cant be mass produced in some plastic factory.

The` is like a beautil woman, her jaunty sheer, perfectly rounded  tumbleholm, and full buttocks. Her motion is alive and lively, and her soul is as old as the ancient art of sailing.

Sailing The`is as close as you can come to heaven while still on earth.  As the son of a son of a sailor, the tradition is in my blood.  Like the motion of the ocean my life is filled with squalls and doldrums, and between some of the most beautiful sailing imaginable.  You can keep your shiny trophy wife, I like em slow, wet, and tender.

I find the great thing in this world is not so much where we stand, as in what direction we are moving: To reach the port of heaven, we must sail sometimes with the wind and sometimes against it – but we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.
– Oliver Wendel Holmes