Stuff your history teacher never told you.
Ah, tradition. There's something grand and glorious about the ways of the sea. Like calling a boats pointy end the bow, the square end the stern and any boat smaller than yours a piece of crap.
Sometimes I get a warm and gushy feeling. If it doesn't mean that I'm moved by the sense that we boating folk are members of a proud fraternity. A fraternity that fosters strong bonds and condones drinking beers for breakfast, yet doesn't make us live with forty college kids that never change their socks.