"Some Days It Just Doesn't Pay to Get Out of Bed"

That was the sentiment of a bass angler who definitely had every reason to feel that way. His day, in a nutshell, went like this.

Having backed his Suburban up to the boat trailer, he immediately had problems getting the receiver on the trailer to drop onto the ball. Nothing he tried would work.

"I tried raising and lowering it, shaking it, jerking it, banging it with a hammer, and everything else I could think of, but it would not latch down," he explained. "Finally, in desperation, I sprayed everything with WD-40, then again lowered the receiver onto the ball, and it latched with ease...go figure."

Soon, the angler was on the road to the lake, located about 30 miles away. The moment he got there, though, it started raining heavily.

"I sat there for about 30 minutes, but the rain didn't let up," he said. "So, I called my daughter and asked her to have a look at the National Weather Service radar. She told me there was a large cell in the vicinity, and that it probably would be at least a couple of hours before it passed. Thoroughly disgusted, I drove back home...into bright sunshine."

The angler then checked the radar for himself and discovered that the cell his daughter was referring to was nowhere near the lake. The only thing showing over the lake was a couple of popcorn showers that quickly had fallen apart after he left.

"Needless to say," grumbled the angler, "I was somewhat perturbed to learn that my daughter was geographically-challenged."

And with that, he got back in his vehicle and once again drove to the lake, where, this time, he was graced with a partly cloudy sky.

"I was boating alone," he said, "so I kicked off my new sneakers, put on my flip-flops, then opened the cargo doors on my Suburban, and backed the boat down the ramp. Upon getting out of the truck to free the boat of the trailer, I unknowingly kicked one of my sneakers into the water. Luckily, it landed right-side up.

"I waded around to the back of the truck and checked the cargo area, only to find that I had neglected to put my tackle box in the boat. In taking care of this, I soon would learn that I had created another problem for myself. I accidentally had hit the door-lock button on the rear post of the cargo area while closing the doors."

After a 15-second delay, all the door locks clunked down, but he never heard them. Here he was, with a locked truck, keys in the ignition, and the vehicle sitting in water up to the running boards on a busy boat ramp...oh, and with a new sneaker slowly floating away in the distance.

"First things first," noted the angler. "I fired up the boat, chased down the sneaker, and then tied the boat to the dock. I waded back to the truck and found there was no way I could get into it without breaking out a window. I found a boulder about the size of my head and decided to break in through the window on the right-side rear-seat door. That glass, however, must have been bulletproof.

"I ended up throwing that boulder at the glass, and all it did was just bounce off, without even causing a scratch. After eight or nine attempts, I gave up and decided to try the front-seat passenger side. This time, the boulder went through that glass like a knife going through butter. Glass went everywhere, as if I had thrown a hand grenade into the truck."

Besides throwing a lot of glass into the driver's seat and causing a lot of damage to the leather, the boulder hit the console and knocked the lid off its hinges. Twenty minutes and several lacerations later, he had removed the boulder and enough glass from the driver's seat to allow him to get in and drive the truck out of the water...a big relief.

"I then reminded myself that despite the fact it now was 3 p.m., my intent since 6 a.m. of catching a few bass had yet to be fulfilled," said the angler. "So I hopped in the boat and went tooling across the water. I was so angry with myself that all I wanted to do was haul azz across the water. I did this for about an hour and then cooled off enough to try fishing. I found a point and half-heartedly fished it for about 20 minutes, all the while thinking about all that glass and blood in my truck. Needless to say, I gave up and headed back to the landing."

As it turned out, a park ranger had noticed the shattered window during the angler's absence and left him a note, saying that he had notified the police of a break-in. Fortunately, the ranger also had left his phone number, so the angler was able to call and cancel the Red Alert.

And then comes the kicker to this story: A game warden drove up while the angler was tying down his rig and getting it ready for the road. "Have any luck today?" he had the audacity to ask.

"What I said to that poor guy is not fit to print," the angler allowed. "Let's just say I was VERY vocal about the luck I had had. At least he never asked to see my fishing license."