“A pickup followed them in, towing a trailer that carried a twenty-foot-long jon boat. The truck driver swung in a wide circle, backed up—fast—toward the waterline at the ramp, hit his brakes, and the boat slid off the trailer into the water. The fisherman jumped out of the truck, walked around to the trailer, untied the line that kept the boat from floating away, tied it to a pole stuck in the ground next to the ramp, got in the truck, and pulled it up beside Virgil’s SUV. He hopped out..., nodded at Virgil, and said, “Johnson, morning,” and Johnson said, “Syz, how they hangin’,” and they all went their separate ways. By the time Virgil and Johnson got to the highway, Syz was roaring out into the river. “He’s a Polack from Chicago, a carp fisherman,” Johnson told Virgil. “They like their smoked carp, the Polacks do. Smoke it almost till it’s brown. Kinda nicotine-colored.” They walked up the highway, dodged across when they got a break in the high-speed traffic, and began climbing the hill.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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