I may have been driving a few miles per hour over the limit. And the registration sticker on my wife’s Subi may be a few weeks out of date.
As fate would have it, I was pulled over by a local constable (jurisdiction undisclosed for obvious reasons to follow) Saturday evening running to pick up She Who Must Be Obeyed. The officer was a strapping guy, my guess was he was late 30’s, and had the tanned look of one who enjoyed the outdoors.
As expected in this day and age he was all business, asking for license and registration and not skipping a beat when I handed him my concealed carry permit as well.
Upon return from the mandatory computer database check in his car, he leaned over, smiled and asked how the fishing had been in Bozeman this summer.
To make a long story short, the officer was a very active fly fisherman, chasing trout in the northern Cascades and on the Yakima as well as sea run cutties in the Sound. Per the 15 minute chat that followed, he’s even a more active steelheader and had fished up and down the western Washington and Oregon coasts and a fair amount in BC.
The icing on the cake was when he stopped for a moment and asked “do you happen to know the Chi Wulff guys there in Bozeman; I think they helped with Swing the Fly too?”
I laughed and said I sure as hell did.
After the inevitable discussion of fall fishing options in southwest Montana, he ceremoniously ripped my ticket in half and said to get the f’n registration updated. (Done.)
The brotherhood of the fly strikes again.
Thanks again.
