My Mechanic
I was fishing with my mechanic the other day. At least I think it was my mechanic, my mechanic usually uses a lot of cuss words. I turned to look at him. He had on what looked to be a good fish. Just then the line snapped.
“Bleep!”
Yup, it was my mechanic.
My mechanic (Rob) and I had come to the Rogue to fish for steelhead. The day had dawned clear and bright but now a steady drizzle fell as the day’s shadows lengthened. I stood knee deep in water and glanced back over at him.
“Did you see the size of that Bleeping Bleep of a Bleep?”
“No.” I lied.
It is a good practice to lie to your mechanic. Why not? He always lies to you. Take the cost of parts for instance.
ME: Looks like that thingy is loose again.
MY MECHANIC: Yup (Yup is mechanic for get ready to make some money)
ME: How much do you think a part like that would cost?
MY MECHANIC: Hmmmm (Hmmmm is a noise mechanics make when calculating how much their vacation fund needs to be replenished.
“Well you should have seen him.” Rob said. “He was as big ass a Buick.” (What is it with these mechanics and cars anyway)?
We moved downstream and I spotted a big Steely holding behind a rock. As I cast to him I thought of my mechanic and the last job he did for me. He overhauled my entire engine, put on new brake pads and rebuilt the transmission. After I paid him in gold bars and my wife’s diamond he said:
“Here, I always shake hands after a deal”.
He held out his hand. It had a small box in it that rattled. I opened the box. It held a bunch of assorted small bolt and car parts.
“What is this?” I asked.
“There’s always some left when I put them back together.”
Just then a huge strike broke me from my thought. I pulled on the rod tip to set the hook.
“Fish on!” I yelled
Ten minutes and a lot of nervous energy later I had the fish netted. It was a huge Chromer. I looked at Rob. He had watched the whole affair.
“ Nice fish.” he said.
“Thanks Rob”, I said.
On our way home from the river Robs phone rang. He got into a discussion and then hung up in a huff.
“ What’s wrong?” I asked.
“That was Karen”, (his wife) “She told me her Dad was stopping by for dinner with his new wife”, he said.
“What’s so bad about that?” I asked.
“She’s from Charlevoix and the steelhead run has been lax up there.”
“So?” I asked.
“So Karen told her I was out fishing and she got all excited. I guess her dad used to take her Steel-heading. Karen told her I was probably bringing some fish home and she just went crazy.”
I saw where this was going.
“But, you don’t have a fish, do you?” I asked.
“No, but you do.” He tried.
“Well, I suppose I could let you have my fish…for a small fee.”
“How much?” He asked tentatively.
“Hmmmm”.
