Another season was ending. The mid-May sun had a tropic sting against my bare shoulders. Sweat rand into my eyes. I had discovered an ugly little pocket of dry rot in the windshield corner of the panel of the topside controls on my houseboat, and after trying not to think about it for a week, I had dug out the tools, picked up some pieces of prime mahogany, and excised the area of infection with a saber saw.
-John D. MacDonald, Bright Orange For The Shroud