Well we'll see how this goes, but it's not looking good. During this past week a motorist let me know the brake lights were out on my truck. I still had a working 3rd brake light but the body ones were not. So last night I decided to take them apart and investigate. More later.
I do have to be honest that I have been pondering over what this blog has morphed into. Jeez, it's supposed to be a fly fishing blog. What started as a mix of stories of fishing adventures, guiding, and Captaining, has become a personal diary, most of the time, with some fishing mixed in. There's no other fly fishing blog out there like this, which doesn't mean it's what it should be, or what people want to read, but they do, in pretty big numbers.
But to the end, this blog, for me is this. It is all about fishing. I've always claimed to be an average angler. A guy who navigates through life doing all of things everyone else does, the good and the bad, around and including fly fishing. When you pen a blog, and there's not fishing 365 days a year, it becomes the story of life and the challenges in between those quick outings, big trips, and the people I meet along the way. Thrown in there is fly fishing related stuff like the fly fishing shows, fisheries management, and both current and past events which affect fly fishing, now almost exclusively related to striped bass.
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| The old Whitehall pocket- Deal |
And in-between those gaps of casting a fly rod are the connections made between like minded and mentally ill anglers, respectfully those obsessed with the passion we share. As you have read, it's not always about the catches and the hangs, real life stuff gets in the way. Those real life interruptions make the opportunities to enjoy fly fishing that much more special and memorable. And when shit gets in the way it's that much more of a bummer.
The last few months have been challenging for me, not that they were all bad. A new job. The big trip to Ireland and Tara's wedding. Flooded house. The emotions of August and September as outlined in yesterday's post. While writing yesterday I realized this is also the month when Bob Popovic's was tragically injured on September 23, 2024. And I know, STFU with you and your story and connections, but I realized Bob was hit on the anniversary of when Ryan died. Just to many intersections.
And now truck issues two days before I was to leave for the Vineyard. I just can't. But what are you going to do.
So yesterday morning when I got a text from my Dad that he wasn't using the tickets for the Giants game it gave me pause. My first gut reaction, we'll pass. I'm a half-ass football fan. I guess now you can say I'm an Eagles rooter since I'm living down in Bird Country. Each time Theresa and I go out for a burger and a beer it's either the Eagles, Sixers, Phillies or Flyers on the screen in front of us.
I planned on running around like a nut yesterday, finishing the aeration and overfeeding the lawn, changing the oil on the truck, fixing the lights, and maybe installing the toilet in the newly almost renovated downstairs bath before I leave tomorrow night for the Vineyard. But why would I let an opportunity, that we would never have again, pass us by? So we bit.
My parents have had these seats for decades and I'm not sure how much longer they will have them. I don't know how die-hard fans go to every single game each Sunday. That is a commitment, a little nutty, I guess it's their fly fishing.
While this experience is not typical for most fans the people seated near us and in the Coaches Club, before and during the game, were true Giants fans. Yes, I am sure some were just taking advantage of the opportunity of someone's gift but it's every Sunday fall right of passage for many.
The tickets come with parking, like right there parking, with an easy off and back on to the Turnpike. The Club has more food options than I could recall and it's important to eat in order, or else your stomach will let you know later. I watched a guy kill the shrimp and crab claws, down it with a beer, only to hit the cinnamon rolls before having a lobster roll and an ice cream after, with more beer.
It was a beautiful fall, well really summer, day at Met Life yesterday. We were in the sun and the temperatures had to hit dam near 100 degrees. We were able to snag some front row seats
inside where we could still see the screens, the top of the players heads, the ball travel through the air, all with the constant blow of cold air on our backs. When halftime came we were only
feet from the players as they retreated to the locker room. The only players I knew were Skattebo and Dart, who made his NFL debut yesterday. We left at the start of the 4th quarter and enjoyed listening to Bob Poppa and Carl banks on the traffic-free drive home. When we arrived home I realized I was behind the eight ball but then what does it all matter? In 10 years, if I still standing, will I remember tackling those honey-to do's or the fact that Theresa and I enjoyed her first NFL game in style? Get busy living or get busy dying.
With plenty of light still around I did change the oil on my truck, clean up all of the mess of the process of doing 112 projects at once, painting the house, finishing the flood repairs, and the most important this time of year thatching, aerating, and seeding the lawn. I did good, and it made going the game that much more of a good call.
And then by 9 pm it was time to tackle the lights. Working in the dark was perfect as I could see what lights worked and which did not. I had no brake lights, and by the time I was finished I had no running lights either. I can't take the chance of hurting someone as I travel north on 95 Tuesday night. That's just not cool.
I had ordered those lights in August of 2023 and they served me well. If I reordered them they wouldn't arrive till Wednesday, about the time I would be crossing the Middle Ground on the ferry. So I ordered one that would come today but it's different, and I think it'll be a stretch to get it done in time. Tomorrow's a 14 day in the hospital so my time is limited.
It looks like I can cancel my reservation with the Steamship Authority and maybe rebook. Since I'm heading there next June we'll see if I can do that or just have a credit to my account. I do want to go, some for the fishing, but more to catch up with friends on the Island. Abe's got a bed waiting for me and I'd hate to miss that hang.
In the end it what it is. I'll be disappointed. Maybe I'll make a trip to the beach here in Jersey as a consolation. But what I will have a few dozen meatballs that Theresa fried up for me to bring for Abe, all to myself over here in Titusville.