I hear shakedown and I think of vintage gangsta movies. You know, Edward J. Robinson shakes down a small-time hood for not paying up. Robinson bloodies the punk and leaves him for dead in a garbage-strewn alley. Fade out.
Maybe that’s why the prospect of a spring shakedown cruise makes me nervous. For you non-boaters, it’s when you discover—usually in gale-force winds and miles from land—what equipment headed south over the winter. Continue reading