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" />" width="500" height="214" alt="ccb" />" />The first time I ever got in this boat, it caught on fire.
We had to bail.
While Dad furiously scooped handfuls of water and threw it onto the engine,
me and Mom waded to the bank.
It was quite the scene.
A scene I love thinking back on and retelling.
Dad has worked on this boat more than he has ridden in it.
But isn't that usually the story with boats?
Well, with boats and mechanical guys like my Dad?
Prior, to our boat excursion, Little Bocephus caught the bait for the big, striped bass we hoped to catch from the boat.
The only problem with this was, she didn't know she was catching the bait.
I didn't know either or else I would have discouraged her from catching a whole "family" of fish complete with a "Mama," "Daddy," and "babies."
In the end, the "babies" did get to live.
They're orphans now, but hey, whatcha gonna do?
Little Bocephus fished for an unbelievably, long time. She'd been after me to take her fishing, since her Daddy has been away. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I haven't got the foggiest clue about which lure to match with which hook, or which reel in the Big Mama's boat house actually reels (I'd probably have about a 30% chance of grabbing a functioning model), or whether to slowly reel or bob it up and down...and, well you get the idea. I know more about tying a knot on a needle than a knot on a fish hook and that's not saying much.
SO, I said all that to say, the time spent fishing under the guidance (and baiting, and broken bobber replacing, and reel repairing), of Paw Paw was much appreciated.
And cherished.
Very sweet post.
ReplyDeleteI sure do miss Dad. I wish y'all would all come out to LA and go on a big camping/fishing trip with me sometime.
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