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On a cosmic night of baseball Randy Wayne White joins the armada in San Francisco's McCovey Cove to fish for Barry Bond's record-breaking home-run ball

Three months of pure freedom. You're loving it—and we are, too. From big water to big walls, from oyster stands to dune shacks, fifty-one sunny ways to dive in when the mercury rises.

In the telecentric world of the X Games, only when it's not on the tube

Call him a gorilla on Popsicle stick, but he's finally caught his wave

Two things guaranteed to ruin a trip are dysentery and bad traveling companions, and I frankly prefer the former, because dysentery at least ensures some quality private time. Unfortunately, there are no guidelines by which to cull good travelers from bad. People expected to be tough will sometimes fold like…

The antiterrorist school of driving initiates a pale James Bond