Satisfied that we could get down the lake, he next asked if I'd ever caught a fish.

Somewhat taken back by the question, I answered, "Of course, haven't you?"

His response was that no, this was his third year, and he'd never gotten a bite.

As Jim and I have been trading practical jokes for a long time, my first thought was, this is a put-on. Then Steve brings in this ancient Zebco, with the original line, and one sad looking tacklebox full of junk. So the first thing I did, was talk him into replacing his line. I'd brought plenty along.

Next I recommended that he consider trying one of my poles, but he didn't like open face reels, nor was he at all interested in a bait caster. He did make a run to the local Walmart that night and invested in a brand new Red Rhino outfit.

The next morning, I took him to the point were I'd caught a nice fish earlier in the week, just to get him past that first fish. We were over eighty foot of water, an easy cast to the bank, which dropped to a twenty foot shelf, two thirds of the way back. He starts throwing a deep diving rogue, towards the main channel, and cranked it in for all he was worth. 

I suggested he that he try the bank and work it slower. After working the length of the bank into the cove, I had caught a couple of smaller bass working a tube like a jig. He'd given in, and tied one of my tubes on his old rod and reel, but as yet hadn't had a nudge. We moved to another location. Then his old reel literally came apart in his hands.