Heavey - Youre not lost if you can still see the truck: the further adventures of Americas everyman outdoorsman

Youre Not Lost
if You Can Still
See the Truck

Also by Bill Heavey

If You Didnt Bring Jerky, What Did I Just Eat?
Misadventures in Hunting, Fishing, and the Wilds of Suburbia

Its Only Slow Food Until You Try to Eat It:
Misadventures of a Suburban Hunter-Gatherer

Youre Not Lost

if You Can Still
See the Truck

The Further Adventures of Americas Everyman Outdoorsman

Bill Heavey

Atlantic Monthly Press

New York

Copyright 2014 by Bill Heavey

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. Scanning, uploading, and electronic distribution of this book or the facilitation of such without the permission of the publisher is prohibited. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors rights is appreciated. Any member of educational institutions wishing to photocopy part or all of the work for classroom use, or anthology, should send inquiries to Grove/Atlantic, Inc., 154 West 14th Street, New York, NY 10011 or .

This book is published by arrangement with Field & Stream magazine, in which many of the books pieces originally appeared.

Shopping Is Fun, but Not for Men (September 1994), The Girls of Summer (1996), Its a Bass World After All (August 1998), Alone with a Pretty Woman in a Small Room with a Big Mirror (April 1988), and Truce and Consequences first appeared in the Washington Post . Suddenly, She Was Gone (February 2001) first appeared in Washingtonian .

Published simultaneously in Canada

Printed in the United States of America

ISBN 978-0-8021-2302-2

eISBN 978-0-8021-9186-1

Atlantic Monthly Press

an imprint of Grove/Atlantic, Inc.

154 West 14th Street

New York, NY 10011

Distributed by Publishers Group West

www.groveatlantic.com

For Mom

The human race has only one really effective weapon and that is laughter.

Mark Twain

Contents

Introduction

Have you ever experienced one of those days when every cast seemed to land right in front of a willing fish or your arrows flew toward the target like guided missiles or you crushed fifteen clay pigeons in a row at a skeet range?

Neither have I. In fact, whenever some bright-eyed geek is recounting such a momentpeople who have experienced flow are always dying to tell you about itI immediately ask if theyve experienced the opposite phenomenon, which one groundbreaking behavioral psychologist (me, although I dont share that part) has called flu. No? Quite understandable, I tell them. Its a recent discovery.

Flu, I explain, is the vague but unmistakable sense that, while youre sort of immersed in the moment, youre pretty much doing everything wrong. Further, although youre aware that youre screwing up, you feel powerless to do much about it. If youve ever spent six hours in a tree-stand without seeing a deer, started your descent, and then startled a big buck that has been bedded for hours right beneath you, thats flu. Maybe youve sat in a boat with a bunch of lures at your feet, tied one to your line and then tossed it out, the better to reel it up to the proper height for casting. Except that you didnt toss out the lure you tied onbut rather the one next to it, which has just sunk and is gone forever. Thats flu.

Im telling you all this so that you, dear book buyer, can make an informed decision about the outdated media format currently in your hands.

If youve ever experienced flow or are in any way interested in learning more about it, this is not the book for you.

If, on the other hand, youve ever experienced flu, orlike mefelt as if most of your life has taken place under its influence, you are in the right place. Here you will find aid, comfort, and validation.

Why do you need this? Its because the public has been hoodwinked into believing that being good at what you like to do is of great consequence. Its not. Enthusiasm is a lot more important than skill. On numerous occasions, for example, I have traveled thousands of miles to catch certain types of fish, failed utterly, and had a hell of a good time doing so. A competent person who did likewiseeven the competent get skunked occasionallywould have been miserable.

Im able to fail and have a good time simultaneously because I amby nature and by preferencean amateur rather than a professional. The sources of those two words are instructive. The root of amateur is the Latin am a tor , or lover. The root of professional is the medieval Latin professi o , the taking of vows upon entering a religious order.

If the question is whether Id prefer being a lover to becoming a monk, I can tell you the answer right now.

I
TAKING THE BAIT,
19881999

PARTNERS

Think they might be moving, says a voice on the phone. Its Greg. We last spoke four months ago, but he talks as if the conversation has been interrupted by someone burping instead of winter. Every spring when the sun reaches a certain angle and the waters edging up toward 60 degrees, Greg and I seem to find each other. Its been like this for six years now.

Im working a job nearby, he continues, not waiting for me to say hello. Primers got to dry for at least five hours. I got the boat on the car, and if I pick you up in fifteen

Preciate all this advance notice, bud, I interrupt sarcastically.

Why? he asks, his voice full of innocent surprise. You busy looking through GQ to see how many pleats your pants are gonna have this summer? Want me to call you back in July?

Im already smiling. These are ritual insults, our way of saying we missed each other over the season of antifreeze, catalog fishing, and despair. Greg is an artist and self-employed floor refinisher who drives whats left of a midseventies station wagon the size of Brazil. In his part of town, the guy at the corner store passes your donuts through a Plexiglas wall with 9 mm spiderwebs on it. I, on the other hand, labor with the tips of my fingers in an office with windows that can only be opened by throwing heavy furniture through them, and live in an area where espresso shops have suddenly begun to grow like shower mold. In a universe without fish, we would probably not be friends. As it is, there are times when were almost telepathic.

Think theyre still deep? I ask casually.

Im thinking shallow. Find someplace the sun will have warmed some rocks near

Like that riprap below the ferry where it

Nope. Motor-accessible. Thatll be a mob scene. He thinks for a moment. Member where that carp hit on a red shad Slug-Go last