AMOS TROTTER GOES FISHING 06

Part 8

We left the IHOP with the right back tire thumping hard off of the curb as Charlotte cut too sharply getting us into the street. "Hey," I called, "this thing has had a pretty good ride so far. Try not to screw it up."

Charlotte seemed to have been around Patrick enough to be unduly affected by his demeanor as she said, "Bite me Amos." Several possible remarks raced through my head, but in rare moment of showing a little discretion, I let them slide by and remained silent. The three of us headed for an assault on Walmart.

Even though the morning traffic was beginning to pick up, Charlotte 'Sparkle Plenty' Babcock managed to barrel our way through to get us to Walmart. The sun was getting higher in the morning sky as we filed in through the garden center door. We were walking through the toy section, heading to sporting goods, and I spied a opportunity I couldn't resist. I picked up a child's fishing set featuring the pictures of Elsa and Olaf from the movie Frozen. The rod and reel was about two feet long and it had three plastic fish with gaping mouth's, colored red, blue, and green. The hook at the end of the string was about as big as my little finger and just as sharp to ensure the little urchins wouldn't hurt themselves. It seemed just right to me as I handed it to Patrick saying, "Here, there's you sorted. Glad they have one just your size"

After the obligatory 'Bite me, Amos' Patrick said, "I could take this set and still catch more fish that you ever dreamed of!"

"Well, they would definitely be more colorful." I replied. "And you could catch them over and over, the fun would never stop."

Seeing another potentially long delay as Patrick and I traded verbal blows, Sparkle Plenty said, "Okay kids, don't make me separate you. I am not going to put up with this bickering all day."

"Yes Mom." We both said as we headed on to sporting goods.

As we arrived in the section of 'all things fishing', we split up. I, being ever practical, said, "If I need to find you I will head for the glow." Which produced the now very predictable response, this time as a duet. If I were a bit more sensitive I could get insulted by this.

I knew what I wanted. A six foot medium strength rod and a Shimano 2200 open faced reel to mount to it. I also preferred between eight to ten pound test line. I like braided line which is light and flexible and does not break even at its test strength. I passed it by however, for a one day assault on the water, monofilament would work just fine, and it is a bit cheaper.

I had delved into the world of artificial lures many years ago, getting rid of the need for aerated minnow buckets, containers of either night crawlers or Georgia Wigglers, various sized hooks, lead weights, and corks, or bobbers if you prefer. I replaced all that with various sized leaded hooks called jig heads, rubber grubs with curly tails, and others that came in shrimp shape as well as minnow, crawfish and even frogs. And, each one could be obtained in any color in the rainbow, with or without sparkle, your choice. There is also a never-ending variety of solid treble hooked lures that could float, run shallow, run deep, have a straight back or a broken back to have more wiggle. In hindsight, I may not have simplified things.

I made my selections and, for me, did a good job of not getting enough tackle to fill a large three drawer tackle box. I had already donated enough stock that my son could probably have opened a small tackle shop. This confirmed to me that my lifelong resistance of throwing anything away was right. You never know when you might need it. My wife, Amelia, never shared this miserly view.

I found a small tackle box that would reduce the ten or so individual items to one handle and I was done, ready to head to the register. I glanced around for the glow to find Sparkle Plenty and hoped Patrick would also be close. He might be eyeing something on the top shelf that needed to be handed down.

I found them in the next aisle and saw that Sparkle had selected a rod with a closed face reel attached. Amazingly, she had found a rod that was bright red with a shiny chrome reel glistening under the florescent lights. She had also selected some Rapala lures that looked like a minnow with the treble hooks. In addition there were a few jigs with plastic bodies, all with sparkle of course.

Patrick, on the other hand, had picked a short rod about as thick as a walking stick, a barrel reel that required some skill in thumb dragging while casting, an assortment of hooks and lead weights in sizes ranging from big to ridiculous and a package of lime green corks about five inches long.

"Is Moby Dick in this lake, Patrick?", I asked, trying my best to keep a straight face.

"If you want to catch big fish, use big bait," Patrick said, with the confidence of an expert fisherman.

"I tried to convince him that the great white sharks had moved out of the lakes eons ago," the Queen of Sparkle said, "but he puts no stock in the opinion of the opposite sex. Typical hard headed, ill informed, manly view!" I grimaced, hoping she would not get on a roll and we would have to listen to the never ending shortfalls of being a man. Fortunately, something sparkly caught her eye down the aisle and she wandered off with the muttering growing less toxic.

"I have never been one to tell a guy how to fish, Patrick, but what you have there fits pretty well in the category of overkill." I said.

"Don't worry about what I have," he said, " I'll catch more fish by accident that you two put together. Now, where are the worms?"

To Walmart's credit they did indeed carry worms in nice paper cups, kept in a refrigerator to keep them fresh. I tried to tell Patrick one cup would probably be all he needed but, in his always better judgement, he figured he would go through at least four.

Getting out of the place would have occurred about thirty minutes sooner if every woman between sporting goods and the register had not flagged Charlotte Sparkle down to tell her just how much they loved her outfit. Each interruption of our journey, I guess through feminine necessity, included a detailed explanation of exactly when and where each treasured piece of her high voltage ensemble was purchased and how long the decision took to actually buy them. Following that was the saga of searching no less than five shoe stores to find the perfect boots to match the outfit and a further three stores to find a white tank top that was perfect to finish it off. I was pretty sure that the exact same calibre of tank top could probably be found on the rack right there in Walmart. After about the third delay, Patrick had started bouncing again and I noticed my right foot was tapping. Neither of us dared speak.

We checked out and Sparkle and I headed back to the Ford behemoth with Patrick pushing a shopping cart in order to handle his mother-load. What we thought was a big purchase was barely noticeable in the cavernous rear of the behemoth. After dumping it in we loaded up ready to finally ride once again. There was another hard bump over the curb heading into the road. "Shut up! I'll get the hang of this!", said Sparkle, before either Patrick or I could say anything.