Fun fact:

all cabbies on the North Shore fish in their spare time, or so it seems. I've gotten more insider information about what spots are good and at what time of the day to try my luck from cab drivers than I have even from the local bait shops. Last night I took a cab home from the Salem train station, so as not to force the missus to bundle up our little one for a ten minute outing in zero degree weather. All I need to do is casually drop the fact that the early advent of winter put a damper on my fishing this year and next thing you know we're swapping stories about the one that got away. This is something about the North Shore that I'd sorely miss, should we ever leave (and we've been thinking about it, if only to live someplace closer to our work like Cambridge or Boston) - every man, woman, and child up in this neck of the woods has a little Old Salt in them just waiting to bust on out. I remember having a conversation with my dental hygenist last month. The ocean naturally comes up as a topic at my dentist's office, since his practice is perched on a rocky promontory in Swampscott and every room in the office has a commanding view of the waves, and I think she brought up the fact that she loves to go fishing with her husband in their boat without any prompting from me. There's something about living at the foot of Cape Anne, home to fishing towns older than the United States itself by a century and a half, that makes the lure of the deep so irresistible I guess.