Things Always Are Different the Second Time Around

Take marriages, for example. After my first one failed, I figured I had all the answers as to how to make the second one work to perfection. Boy, was I ever wrong! The problem, in a nutshell: I neglected to take into account the fact that each person is different. While I didn't encounter any of the original "learning to get along together" pains, I discovered a whole host of new ones.

And now I'm finding out the same principle applies to fishin' rods.

As I mentioned in last week's fishing report, I lost a Bass Pro Shops crankin' stick Friday, when a big pickerel got a bit too rambunctious while I was trying to lay my free hand on the tools to set his fanny free. I momentarily turned back around just in time to see that fish go airborne right beside the boat. As he crashed back down into the water, the rod snapped hard on the gunwale, and that was all she wrote for my crankin' stick.

Since that incident occurred, I've been going through my complete inventory of old rods, trying to find one I can "get along with" as a replacement. And mind you, these are all rods that, at one time or another, I liked the feel of well enough to buy them and, in most cases, happily used them for a fair period of time afterward. However, that "feel" (in every case so far) the second time around isn't what I remember it was the first time.

On Tuesday of this week, I slapped the reel from the broken rod on a medium-heavy rod that you couldn't have pried out of my hands at one time. I liked the rod so well, as a matter of fact, that I went out and bought about 10 of 'em and used 'em for everything I threw. As I'm learning, though, that was then, and this is now. So today, I tossed that one-time favorite aside like an old rag...about like I did that pickerel last Friday when I was done with him.

Next in my lineup for testing the waters with the second time around is a medium rod, which, back in the day, was a favorite, as well. I'm not taking any bets, however, that this will get my nod as a suitable replacement. Let's just say it remains to be seen whether I can learn to "get along with it," because I'm convinced it likewise will prove to feel altogether different than it did when I first bought it. Maybe it'll last longer than one trip, but who knows?

Should this rod crash and burn, I still have a couple other old medium rods from different manufacturers that I can try before...yep, you guessed it...I go out and look for something new to "get the feel of."

I honestly didn't think my search for a replacement rod, especially among a bunch of old ones that I liked the first time around, would be so difficult. If anything, I figured it would be a "snap"--about like the one that pickerel orchestrated on my crankin' stick across the gunwale of my boat.

You can be certain of this much: I'll replace that rod, one way or the other. It doesn't have to be "perfect," but it does need to satisfy my desire for something that feels right in my hand. I gotta believe that part of my problem with the "feel" of these old rods is tied directly to the fact "Uncle Arthur" growls much more loudly today than he did a few years ago.

Just yesterday, as an example, I was out with my wife, and with the car's inside temperature getting a bit too warm, she flipped on a little AC. Within about 10 minutes, I was looking for somewhere to hide my aching hands. So, yes, I definitely think this issue is playing into why these old rods don't feel the same the second time around.

In the meantime, as my rod search continues, I'm giving careful consideration to going back to my old method of handling all those toothy critters. I used to "cross their eyeballs" as soon as I had 'em alongside the boat. That way, I didn't have to worry about 'em breaking any rods, getting any of my lures, or causing any injuries, either.