Well, the Lefty Kreh interview will have to wait, and Lefty would want it that way when a buddy calls up to go scout some new water on a local lake. It’s a no-brainer actually. If you are wondering how Mr. Kreh is doing, he is on a single crutch and moving around quite well. His casting seminar sponsored by the Dallas Fly Fishers group was well attended, and he made it around a sizable area of the park to each and every participant for individual attention. Lefty is still Lefty, and that is the best thing you can say about the legend.

Loading up and heading out to fish. Low winds out of the south southwest mean there are some flats that should be showing tails, and I am still looking for another big Bass to hang on my memory card.

PARTY – Tailwaters celebrated their first anniversary today with a shindig that included music, casting contests, beer, food, camaraderie and deals galore. There were plenty of familiar faces besides the Tailwaters crew, and in the five hours I was there, I met many new people with that common thread – a fly line – weaving our conversations together. Everyone agreed they were very pleased with Tailwaters early success, and relieved to see a real fly shop make a go of it in Big D. Set all inventories aside, set all price comparisons aside, set all locations aside, and what you have remaining is a knowledgeable group of guys who seriously love the sport – all under one roof.

FOOD – Tailwaters threw out some great looking mudbugs, dogs, corn on the cob and potatoes (both of which were drenched in the crawfish seasoning), good beer out of a keg and other food of a milder sort. Afterwards, we (yes my wife had to come down for the party) were getting hungry and I took her to the Flying Fish for some good classic fried fish and shrimp. If you are in DFW and you haven’t eaten at the Flying Fish, it really is a must try, and an experience to be enjoyed by all ages and their menu is extensive and steeped in southern traditions.

BEER – Summertime means lighter wheat beers for this consumer and right now I am enjoying a Pyramid Crystal Wheat Beer, and it is a bit on the heavier side of wheat beers with a fuller body than most wheat beers, and therefore a little less refreshing than other wheats. Waiting in the wings is a wheat from the Midwestern USA brewery – Boulevard Brewing Co., in Kansas City Missouri, and one I have visited on occasion. They have been doing it right since 1969 and have many varietals – each well worth the sampling. It’s not Fort Collins’ New Belgium Brewery, but if you like beer and find yourself in KC MO, be sure and check it out. It just doesn’t seem that (locally anyway) Texas favorite Shiner Brewery has anything new to offer the summer connoisseur of wheat beers. Their beers seem to be either too dark or too light, with the famous Bock bringing an instant headache to this consumer. Bock may not mean bottom of the barrel, but when it comes to Shiner Bock, it tastes like it.

MUSIC – A huge month of releases and some that I have missed are coming to my ears, as I spin new releases by Mud Crutch, My Morning Jacket and Aimee Mann. Living as I do, in a vacuum of sound offerings by Dallas Radio, I completely missed the release by Texas’ Bob Dylan – James McMurtry. I will ask him if he’s offended by the comparison the next time I see him, but according to a recent article in the Dallas Morning News (since I don’t get to hear anything on Dallas radio), McMurtry has taken the gloves off and come out swinging against President Bush and a war that has McMurtry traceably increasingly disillusioned. I will wait to hear the McMurtry release before giving a full review of each, but rest assured there are classics laying in the 1′s and 0′s on these discs. If you like the vein of music that I like, go ahead and go to Amazon (unless you can patronize a local small box store), and buy the first three I mentioned – because from what I’ve already heard, these will define the fly summer of 2008.

Time to go to work on the edit for the Lefty Kreh video and tidbit interview I did last week. I am looking to roll that one out Monday while Leslie is in Las Vegas, New Mexico, and looking to get away from her conference and hit some of their local waters. That may not happen, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it did.

Just as darkness was setting this evening I decided I had to continue with the regimen started just yesterday in preparation for the trip to South Padre Island. The regimen; casting the Sage Z-Axis 10 I recently acquired to begin to build up some strength for it, me and it, against the wind.

I put the rod together (it really is amazing how much more gingerly one handles a rod that cost triple a TFO rod), borrowed reel seated, line loaded and walked down the street and up the block to a nearby park. Darkness. Perfect for what I may be facing next month.

I knew I was hurting from the few casts yesterday, and I’m no Tiger Woods when it comes to playing with pain. I worked out the muscle kinks and began to get the gist of the rod, that being this size rod is a double hauler start to finish. Once that was realized, I started moving some line – which direction I could not see, but I did begin to hang some trees at sixty feet that I could not reach at first.

Enough. I reeled in after about 20 casts and headed for home repeating the same route as the outgoing route; down the street, leisurely down my street, past our VW parked in front of the house and up to the front porch. I softly, gently broke down my rod and went inside, hollered at Leslie and heard her holler back. The darn dogs made a racket for some reason. Ten seconds later someone knocks at the door. “Someone just hit your car”, was the soft voice from the teenage neighbor across the street.

We went outside to see the VW sixty feet down the street from where it was parked, someone inside and not moving, car lights on and a head-on crush. Leslie goes out to look, and I call 911. If you are fresh to this site, you will want to refer back to the post “in Threes” where you will find out the recent history of this VW. After those fiascos, I knew to call 911. Done with the phone call, what seemed like an eternity was passing when this caucasian female gets out of the car with her blanket and starts walking. Now keep in mind, I have been hit by motorcycles in California where the guy got up got back on and fled. I was already carrying my camera with me to document the accident scene, and I hear this “She’s fleeing!!”

I told Leslie to stay with the accident as I knew the police would arrive there first and could even drive by her not knowing she was involved with anything except the laundry she was carrying, a bloody nose and two virtually shut black eyes. “I’m going with her!”, and off we go on a staggering walk across some yards toward and then away from houses and doors and pinballing without ringing a bell or lighting a light. On to a major street all the while I am admonishing her to give it up because I am going with her and she isn’t getting away. Into the street and into the direct line of traffic, which luckily at the moment, there was little traffic. She staggers across to the other side to stumble downhill with the flow of traffic. Cars start coming from behind, and the only thing I could do to save her without touching her was flash the cars coming up from behind. They heed the bizarre warning of an extremely powerful camera flash, slow to a crawl and pass by watching the freakshow parade of two. Just another night in Denton, Texas, they think to themselves.

Finally the street begins to level out at the bottom of the hill and she hooks a right, straight for cement city. This street is obscure to say the least, so I know her odds of escape have just increased dramatically. All the while, I am looking for the Crown Vic Cavalry to show up,walking backwards and waiting to see one of Denton’s finest pass down the major street in search of the freakshow parade. Again, I was ready for the opportunity, and as soon as I saw the unit passing down the previous street at about 500 yards distance, I HIT HIM with the flash. Bing. He stopped, turned and was coming on. He never would have seen her as she had started skirting close to buildings and way off the street – dazed and confused. He hits the lights when he sees her, and she wheels around and falls flat on her back. Citizen pursuit over.

I made it back to the wreckage that was a 45-mpg 2002 VW Diesel Beetle. Leslie is dazed at our lack of luck – now standing at four wrecks for that car this year. Glass, lights pieces and parts strewn all over the distance from impact to stopping point. Then, the young neighbor who knocked on our door made a profound observation; “There’s no skid marks.” There are no skid marks. There are no other areas of impact on the entire street. One would expect a swerve to the left and right, and over the curb and into a yard, back onto the street and bang. Nope. This was a clean, nose to nose straight head-on impact.

Once the arresting officer made it back to the scene, he filled in one of the blanks – she had tried to commit suicide last night. To an uneducated person, this looks a lot like a second attempt. Others had seen her close up and were certainly of the opinion she was “under the influence”, although I was close enough to her to know it wasn’t alcohol. I am sure the rocket fuel powered airbag had some influence on her condition.

Where do the miracles start and where do they end? First, the driver is still alive. No one died in front of our quaint little house on our quaint little street tonight. Second, I had just walked the exact path of destruction less than one minute before it happened – more like 45 seconds. Third, Leslie and I had just gotten home thirty minutes earlier, and could have easily been sitting in the car or just getting out. Sure I could have parked in the driveway, but then maybe my Land Cruiser would have been in the street and she would be completely and irreversibly dead. God love this person and God help this person.

Now, the world of insurance, claims, police reports, rental cars and disdain for the sorry way insurance companies will treat us — all these and more that we do not know await us upon tomorrow’s dawning. If we were supposed to learn something from the material experiences doled out from the previous three accidents, we must not yet know what that is.