My first impression of "Ronnie" was a positive one, even if he was 15 minutes late appearing from his luxury condo. As he stumbled by the line of high end valley vehicles towards my very used 4 runner, I noticed he was hauling some serious gear. Packing his small fly shop into my boat and truck made me feel all fuzzy inside. I caught myself thinking things could be good , even if his new wading boots were still in the box and it looked like his waders were fresh from the dry cleaners.
I tried, really I did. Lefty couldnt have helped this guy in a week, honestly my 4 year old can move graphite better. Terrible is not a powerful enough adjective for Ronnies grasp of our sport or his ability to learn. All the finest equipment our industry offers was useless. Until one of these Rod manufacturers produce a remote control for their rods, I think people like Ronnie should be banned from possessing a nice one.
So 3 hours into my 5 hour trip I realized nothing I said or did was going to help; I began to think. Maybe it wasnt Ronnies fault. What if fly rods could be possessed? A good soul might spend eternity as a rod in the hand of a true master, destined to enjoy countless days beautifully catching fish while traveling the world. Ronnies Z-Axis was definitely not the soul of Lee Wulff or Mel Kreiger, more like Osama Bin Laden. I saw enough to know there was nothing I could do, this rod was never going to enjoy another day of its existence as long as Ronnie held it. So rest assured America it's true, Osama is dead and his soul will be tortured forever.
Definition of the Month:
Dance: the tug, wiggle or pull that a fish produces on the tip of a properly moved rod; something Ronnie may never experience; something we never watch on TV around my hut.