Between preaching jobs, my dad worked as a civil servant at Kelly Field Air Force Base. He was a shipping clerk during the latter part of his stay there. We spent many of his vacation days on trips to Port Aransas. I have wonderful memories of those trips. Back then, the fishing was good.
He bought a car one time from someone at work. As I recall, he paid $20. I think it was a '59 Chevolet Biscayne. I'm not sure, I just know part of the adventure was keeping enough oil in the motor to get there. It seems we added oil more often than gas. It was part of the adventure. That and singing along with the radio about Bertha Butt and the Traklodykes or something like that.
Our destination was the Horace Caldwell pier. Prior to a hurricane, it was the best place to fish. After the hurricane, there was no pier, but that was a different trip. Sleeping arrangements were obvious. Dad slept in the trunk and I slept on the back seat. It made perfect sense at the time. My dad was always creative like that.
Dad taught me how to fish with an open reel. Flip the bale lever back. Catch it with your finger. Pull the rod back and let the bait fly. It was great fun. Life was much simpler then. At least for me it was. For dad, life was probably like it is today for me. Always wondering what tomorrow will bring...
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