If you’ve spent any time at all at the Jersey Shore — or, really, any ocean-adjacent seaside town anywhere — you probably know this guy: he’s northward of seventy, he’s spent his life out on the ocean, either fishing or sailing or what-have-you, his beard is the envy of everyone in Z Z Top, and he has a face like an old catcher’s mitt, wizened by the salt air.
And he knows how to tell a story.
And he will tell a story. At length.
And, somehow, each successive story becomes less and less believable, yet they all make him out to be Superman, MacGyver, and Steve Jobs all rolled into one.
That guy is an old salt. And you’re lucky to know him.
Now, we’ve got a beer to honor that guy in your life, and, as a watermelon gose, it’s just as salty as he is.