cuinrearview
Unskilled Hammer Donkey
- Local time
- 9:05 PM
- User ID
- 9248
- Joined
- Apr 16, 2019
- Messages
- 10,705
- Reaction score
- 74,219
- Location
- Dowling, MI
Morning guys.
So about '03 or '04 my cousin invited me to join him and a couple buddies on a fishing week in Ontario. We over-night road tripped it up to Lake Biscotasing. The last two hours were dirt roads, starting with the widest, most perfectly crowned strip of gravel I've still ever been on and finishing with 35 minutes of two track with grass growing in the middle. Beautiful country, but absolute BFE. It ended at a little village on the lake, with just a store and a dozen or so houses. All of the access to the few cottages/cabins on the huge lake was by boat, including our lodge. We went into the store, which had your usual assortment of essentials, and a huge stack of cases of Carling(any relation @cus_deluxe ?) beer in the middle of the room. Doing as the Romans, we loaded a couple cases and our gear on the lodge pontoon when it arrived. After a couple days of great fishing and even more BSing, we're out of beer. We boat back to the store only to find it closed. Yup, Canada Day. Darkness is falling and we're wracking our brains for the solution to this crises. One of us remembers the stacks of Carling cases at "the bait man"'s house a few places down where we'd bought minnows the first day. We had all noticed the softball hiding under his shirt but had only guessed at what it could be. Modern medical care probably wasn't real high on these folks' list and the closest hospital was hours away down in Sudbury. It's after dark now, so I'm voted to run up to his house. His "bait shop" is the attached front porch/three season's room. I knock. And knock. No response. Then I see something out of the corner of my eye. His head is poked around the corner of the porch seeing who it is. "Hey buddy, how's it going". He reluctantly steps around the corner. After some negotiation I talk him out of a case of beer at an extorted price.
Here's the reason I always vividly remember this every time I hear "Canada Day". I caught him late, and he had no shirt on. The lump we'd noticed earlier is now exposed and looks like what I can best describe as a pound of ground beef tightly wrapped in wet parchment paper. I'll never forget it.
Safe lifting techniques at all times boys. Don't over-do it.
So about '03 or '04 my cousin invited me to join him and a couple buddies on a fishing week in Ontario. We over-night road tripped it up to Lake Biscotasing. The last two hours were dirt roads, starting with the widest, most perfectly crowned strip of gravel I've still ever been on and finishing with 35 minutes of two track with grass growing in the middle. Beautiful country, but absolute BFE. It ended at a little village on the lake, with just a store and a dozen or so houses. All of the access to the few cottages/cabins on the huge lake was by boat, including our lodge. We went into the store, which had your usual assortment of essentials, and a huge stack of cases of Carling(any relation @cus_deluxe ?) beer in the middle of the room. Doing as the Romans, we loaded a couple cases and our gear on the lodge pontoon when it arrived. After a couple days of great fishing and even more BSing, we're out of beer. We boat back to the store only to find it closed. Yup, Canada Day. Darkness is falling and we're wracking our brains for the solution to this crises. One of us remembers the stacks of Carling cases at "the bait man"'s house a few places down where we'd bought minnows the first day. We had all noticed the softball hiding under his shirt but had only guessed at what it could be. Modern medical care probably wasn't real high on these folks' list and the closest hospital was hours away down in Sudbury. It's after dark now, so I'm voted to run up to his house. His "bait shop" is the attached front porch/three season's room. I knock. And knock. No response. Then I see something out of the corner of my eye. His head is poked around the corner of the porch seeing who it is. "Hey buddy, how's it going". He reluctantly steps around the corner. After some negotiation I talk him out of a case of beer at an extorted price.
Here's the reason I always vividly remember this every time I hear "Canada Day". I caught him late, and he had no shirt on. The lump we'd noticed earlier is now exposed and looks like what I can best describe as a pound of ground beef tightly wrapped in wet parchment paper. I'll never forget it.
Safe lifting techniques at all times boys. Don't over-do it.
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