By 10am we’d landed in a suburb the name of which evades me. We stalked ultra-spooky carp at puddle depths, and for a moment I wished I had a 4-weight in hand.
It hit me on before we embarked to the next venue…Reynolds is driving a yuppie mobile!
I began conjuring as many quasi-insults as I could, the plan being to hold my tongue until the moment was just right.
Then we hit a stinky, murky, carp-infested stillwater if there ever was one.
At which point I came up empty handed. And the driver did not.
MG signing off (thanking my lucky stars I know how to keep my fat trap shut)
Major chick-mobile. Damnnnnnnn
No my dear man, this is a chick-mobile: http://www.moldychum.com/home-old/2012/5/1/man-rig-1985-mercedes-benz-unimog-doka.html
I don’t know what’s worse, the fact that he let you ride shotgun or the fact that he’s willing be seen out in public with me.
Even if that thing had just rolled off the showroom floor, I would still bet my last dollar that the interior of ye old yota is still cleaner.
…and I bet he neglected the pimp-ass-Target-rod-carrier/clothing rack accessory.
Yea, but he’s got those knarly rubber floor mats.
I could die there, access, carp, water that looks familiar. Not what I usually see on screen.
Gregg
Gracie came up empty handed?? That’s just not possible! Hello from the Hillis house. Hope you are well.
It’s been a mixed year so far for me. Hope you and Jamie are rockin-n-rollin!