One. Last. Ride.

When my older brother turned sixteen some ten years ago, he purchased a 1992 Honda Accord from our uncle for a mere $800. The car was in good shape and drove great despite at one time being stolen, gutted, and left in a corn field. Our uncle used the car to commute to Philadelphia on a daily basis and when I say commute I actually mean speed. The car was born and raised racing down the turnpike every morning and it always drove the best when you were going over fifty miles per hour. My brother used the care for his three remaining years in high school before it was passed a long. To me. The old Honda became my fish mobile throughout high school and into college.

Custom Paint Job & Dented Hood.

Rust & Missing Parts.

Mileage.

Morning Gloom.

Upstream Scenery.

Downstream Scenery.

Small Smallie.

The fish mobile was exactly that, a car used specifically to go fishing. Almost everyday during the school year and in the summer there were one or several fly rods strung up and ready to fish inside the car. A nine foot fly rod fit perfectly in the trunk and up onto the dash. My waders and assorted fishing equipment resided in the trunk and often dried in the trunk. Needless to say, the fish mobile produced a very strong odor. Many a time a girl or some friends would enter the car for the first time and remark about a strange fishy smell. They learned quickly what my main hobby was. At another point, Adam and I used the trunk as a live well. Yes, we had a huge container in the trunk filled with water, a pump, and trout. Driving up and down hills and around turns you could hear the water sloshing around back there. The Honda was also used to ferry the dogs back and forth to the lake to go for a quick swim. No need to drive them off, just put them in the back seat.  I also had a bad habit of leaving the sun roof open (at least 4 times) after a late evening fly fishing only to have several severe thunderstorms dump a few inches of rain into the car overnight. Despite the mistreatment, the car to this very day still runs great, and it still has that nice aroma.

PT Scores.

Reflections.

Tube Fly.

Nice Slab.

Perch.

Rock Bass.

As the car and I got older, I put on some years while the Honda packed on the miles. When inspection came up a few days ago, my father informed me that the few hundred dollars needed to fix up the car for inspection were a few hundred more than he was willing to pay. It was time to say goodbye. I loaded up the good old Honda and took off fishing to some of my favorite haunts from my youth. I treated it like I always treated it. I drove fast and didn't care about getting the seats wet, spilling ice cream, or drying my dogs off. When the day was coming to a close, I hit up some of my favorite roads and just cruised, windows down, elbow hanging out, listening to some tunes, and just enjoying the ride. I rolled up the driveway for the last time as the mileage ticked over to 237,000 and two tenths. I unloaded my gear, took a few pics, and said goodbye to my first official fish mobile. I hope my current one lasts as long and provides as many memories as the Honda. She was a good as they come.

Small Stream Wild Brown.

UV Hares Ear.

Swinging Sulphurs.

Porker on the Swing.

The Honda's Last Brown.