There is a certain type of fellow who, when he gets old, wants a fast boat. My friend Harry Ruth was such a guy. One day, before we ran up and down the big river, Harry nosed the boat up toward a bridge piling.
I cast at the concrete, let the minnow slap against it and held the bail open to let the bait slide down the piling into the water. Then I saw the flash and the grab. Crappies were stacked around the concrete on both sides and we hammered them on...