She carried all her fishing gear from her truck to the bay but forgot the fishhooks so when she saw me, she asked if I had any. I did. I'd been carrying them since Loreto in Baja California. I'd never used them and it took me a minute to find where I had them stowed, but I gave them to her.
She was a 24 year old Gemini, a beautiful girl. She tied the hook, put a shrimp on it, and right away caught a catfish. It was tiny though so she carefully took it off the hook, gave it a kiss on its shiny little head, and threw it back.
We talked for most of an hour. She was heartbroken over her girlfriend. She'd never had a boyfriend but our easy camaraderie made her think about it. I told her that a man was no cure for what ailed her though and as much as I was liking her, I avoided saying that I might fit the bill. That was hard. I liked her.
She was a strong woman, fit and muscled. She'd been a truck driver and a scrapper but was struggling with meth addiction. A typical Cajun in many ways.
She needed me to come along just then and not just for hooks. When we parted, she stuck out her hand for a shake but I offered her a hug instead which she accepted. A few minutes later, she gave me a big hug back and said, "Thank you sir".
I rode away then but I kept hearing something slapping on my bike. I stopped a little ways down the trail but had a hard time finding what was making the noise. I found it eventually though. It was another fishhook and stuck in my rear tire. I removed it, stowed it, and rode on.
She was a 24 year old Gemini, a beautiful girl. She tied the hook, put a shrimp on it, and right away caught a catfish. It was tiny though so she carefully took it off the hook, gave it a kiss on its shiny little head, and threw it back.
We talked for most of an hour. She was heartbroken over her girlfriend. She'd never had a boyfriend but our easy camaraderie made her think about it. I told her that a man was no cure for what ailed her though and as much as I was liking her, I avoided saying that I might fit the bill. That was hard. I liked her.
She was a strong woman, fit and muscled. She'd been a truck driver and a scrapper but was struggling with meth addiction. A typical Cajun in many ways.
She needed me to come along just then and not just for hooks. When we parted, she stuck out her hand for a shake but I offered her a hug instead which she accepted. A few minutes later, she gave me a big hug back and said, "Thank you sir".
I rode away then but I kept hearing something slapping on my bike. I stopped a little ways down the trail but had a hard time finding what was making the noise. I found it eventually though. It was another fishhook and stuck in my rear tire. I removed it, stowed it, and rode on.
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