"Yeah, see this big hole? That's in the timing belt cover. I wouldn't drive very far until we can get your car back in to fix this." He doesn't need to tell me twice – it looks ugly. Make appointment for later in the week. The next morning, pack up the car and head to the Henry's...

"Yeah, see this big hole? That's in the

timing belt cover. I wouldn't drive very

far until we can get your car back in to fix

this." He doesn't need to tell me twice –

it looks ugly. Make appointment for later

in the week. The next morning, pack up

the car and head to the Henry's.

It’s a cold, shitty day and if asked, I really couldn’t tell you why I’m going. Risking

breaking down by the side of a potato field in the rain just for a few hours of fishing,

with little prospect of success, is pretty assinine from just about any angle. Maybe I

just need to get out and away from the computer. Maybe the dog could use some

excercise.  Maybe I’ll catch some March browns coming off – the prayer of every

spring angler. Maybe I need material for this column. Maybe…maybe I need help. 

Ok, no “maybes” on that one. 

Is the car making a different sound? No, it’s the wind. This isn’t a relaxing drive – I’m

convinced I’m going to shred a timing belt at any moment. Finally get there, and

I’m the only one (no surprise). The water’s running a bit murky, but not bad.

No rises, of course. Go for the white zonker on a sinker and swing that shit far

and wide. Third swing and I get a hit so hard I can’t believe it’s a trout. No jump.

I tell myself it’s the brown of a lifetime. He’s got the current on his side and after

a  few painfully drawn-out seconds of mutual fumbling, the line goes slack.

On cue, hail comes down at a 45 deg. angle and I pull my hood up. I may as well

be steelheading to put up with this crap. Keep swinging till it’s blatantly obvious

that nothing else is going to happen and the hail becomes HAIL and wade back to

the bank. Luna’s curled up in a tight ball under a tree trying to stay warm. She gives

me the, “wow, thanks for bringing me out here” look.  It’s at that moment, despite

all the accrued  evidence of the purity and steadfastness of a good dog’s heart,

that I realize they know sarcasm, and she’s just told me, in no uncertain terms,

what I would probably ignore from any fellow human – to get a life.