When my Dad was last in town, we took my new canoe out for it’s maiden voyage under Atkinson ownership. One of my favorite bass ponds did not disappoint on this early June morning. We caught a fish on the first cast, on the last cast and on most casts in between. And as yet another enraged largemouth towed the canoe down the shoreline, we both laughed and cast and paddled.
And lest I wondered if my dear old Dad was enjoying himself, as bass number 15 (or was it 20?) exploded on his jitterbug, he turned around with a big goofy grin on his face and said, “You know, I think I might need to buy a canoe of my own.”
As I hooked another on my purple worm, I said, “I couldn’t agree more. But this one’s not for sale.”
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I’m going to get my grandpas this weekend. We’ll have to all take them out sometime.
Deal! I anticipate the day, my friend.