Not even a glass of wine, candles, and bubble bath can take away from the on going adventures in fishing with Dad.
He was bound and determined to be on the river salmon fishing yesterday. With sardine wraps on the flat fish lures done, gas in the fuel tanks, battery charged and his one beer in the cooler with my water bottle, off we went. Got on the water and hauled ass down river to a spot he heard was hot. Of course everyone else had heard it was a hot spot too, so we were knee deep in boats of all shapes and sizes. Dad's boat is so old & ugly everyone assumes we know what the hell we are doing. If they only knew, the probability of the tall white haired Viking driving the jet boat cutting their lines as she zooms by is higher than they think.
Dad struggling to put the lures on as we are speeding down river, casts out and nearly goes over board. He hollers at me to put my line in and slow troll back up river. "Nope, you fish, I'll handle the boat." There are other boats to dodge, as well as debris in a fast current. The ol bastard smiles and says "Ok, I'll just put your line in for you!"
After four hours of not one single bite, and watching the other guys pull in salmon and steelhead Dad says, "let's take'r in Sis, there aren't any fish here."
Back at the dock, we put her on the trailer, tighten down the gear, and Dad speeds out of the launch site, only to slam on the brakes mere inches from the big bump going out the gate. As I'm pealing myself off the dashboard, I remind him that it would be nice if next time he gave a bit of a warning before he does that.
So there we are traveling North at speed on I5 to get to our off ramp when there is a Boom, Crunch, Bang! "Dad, pull off on the shoulder, and turn on your flashers, I think we blew a tire on the trailer." "What?" I repeat myself, and he gets her off into the breakdown lane. He starts to try to get out of the car and take a look see. Traffic is heavy and fast. "Oh Hell No, stay in the car!" I get out on the passenger side, yep the whole tire/rim has come off the single axle trailer. Get back in, still telling Dad to stay put, call the tow company and get that started. Tow shows up and says he can't fix it and will have to put it on the truck and take it home for us. Fine, let's gett'r done. Ol Ugly is back home now, parked, and waiting for a new axle and a few other repairs.
Oh, how could I have forgotten to tell you about the highway patrolman that came and talked to us, went in search of our wayward tire, came and talked to us, expedited the tow, came and talked to us, and used his flashers to slow up traffic til we could get off the freeway. Well, he came and talked to us because Dad kept chatting him up, asking him questions, complementing him on his hat! All the while I'm staring at Dad with a "What Are You Doing Look?". When the patrolman went back to his truck for the last time... Dad turns to me, cocks a wizened eyebrow and says, "Nice looking man, about your age..."