Didn't want to use much gas, it just costs too much. Wives been on my back for a month cause I won't buy the new dishwasher she wants. Old one works just fine. I know the ploy. Buy the dishwasher with the stainless face. Oh, gee, it doesn't match the range. Buy the stainless range, but, oh my gosh, it doesn't match the refirgerator. Buy the stainless frig, and now the microwave don't match. If as if I'd buy a new micro popper knowing fool well the walls would have to be repainted, and the cabinets won't match, and the darn linoleum would be the next unfortunate target.

So I escape. A no planning, no advance warning trip. Two gallons of gas on the boat, enough to get on an off a trailer. Take all 3 trolling motor batteries, lots of coffee, and a lick or two of darn good burbon. Its 1130 pm, she's out cold, in the sack, remote in hand, TV on the gameshow channel. She won't hear the garage door. Nows the time, take it or leave it.

Gone, silently in the dark, drifting a rigged pontoon boat and a van with no power steering is a rush to the male hormones. I'm getting away with something here. Two hours driving, on the ramp, in the water without a hitch. Little after 4 am now. The dam at Cland thru the fog looks like the Kingdom of OZ. The shad play at the drop light slung over the port bow, and towed in the silence of a trolling motor that has no wind to challenge it. This is what God made Sunday morning for I giggle to myself. One net throw, lots of bait, lights up, down poles out, 7:20 am, and the coffee and burbon make the lifting fog and rising sun surreal. Plenty of light now but no sun, with breeze too lazy to push, yet willing to make ripples. THUMP...what?!?!.....THUMP.....what's hitting the pontoons? Splash, bang, spalsh, splash.......it jumps! They're under and beside the boat all at once, too close to cast. It's a surface riot. All 4 down poles are down, and I can't resist. The Redfin flops feet from the boat and explodes in white water, the Ugly Stick moans under the strain and the Penn rips off line. Loosen the drag, seat a down pole, port side now, set a down pole hook, 3 on and running. Stern lines still doubled and pointing at the thermocline. Looser yet for the Penn drag, to the stern now, set one downpole and loosen the drag, then back to the starboard, and its a quick set and hook up number two. Five on, and only five rods out, trolling motor now on high to keep pressure on the down poles. Fog drops back in, can't see where I'm going, going too fast to see more than a few feet through the soup. Penn in one hand, Makers Marks in the other, time to look aft and see how the down rods are doing.

Sharp pain, things are spinning now, vision narrows to a pin-point. Now things are getting clear again, field of vision improving.

Out of the fog comes a voice, its my wife...........................................
"If your gonna fall asleep on the sofa watching your In-Fisherman tape, then you ought drink a little less so you won't hit your head on the coffee table when ya roll over.......

I knew it was too goo to be true........

But atleast, as I sit here at the key board......I know I hooked somebody on that end of the internet.........CHEERS!