The Pope doesn’t call me very often, so when he does, I usually pick up.  “Whas’ up, Kimbro?”  Thank God he wasn’t speaking Latin this time.  “You know I’m gonna be in DC next week, so we’re fishing, right?”

“Yeah, everything’s slow at work what with all the festivities.” I replied. “How about we meet Wednesday morning at Kent Narrows.”

I looked at the wind forecast, and things didn’t look good, but fortunately there wasn’t a breeze stirring when I woke up.  I’ve had some problems with the lights on my boat trailer, but somehow they were working fine as I pulled out of my driveway and headed down Route 50.  I’d overslept a little and I don’t like being late, so I decided not to stop for gas.  When I got to the ramp, the gas gauge was pegged way past full. Read More!