"O" is for the oil on my hair — and everything else

I don't know how many times in our travels over the years James Overstreet and I have looked at each other and said, "You can't make this up." The latest of those incidents just occurred.


We followed Jacob Powroznik into an area called Palo Gauche Flats 40 minutes ago. It was thick with smoke from another one of the controlled burns taking place around Toledo Bend this week. The smoke was blowing directly toward us, and all the sudden we were showered in a sprinkle of oil.


So we two rocket scientists get to putting two and two together and figured it was something like turpentine spewing from the burning pine trees. I mean we are covered in this stuff — as oily as two olives. Our boat dashboard and my iPad look like they were sprayed with Pam.


Of course, there was some serious cursing going on. Then we discovered the enemy and, as usual, the enemy was us. Overstreet hit the Power-Pole switch and we got showered again. Seems these two greasers have us a hydraulic hose leak.


If hydraulic fluid works like sunscreen, I should be good through the weekend.


Oh, yeah, Powroznik still has four fish. He's moved out of the smoke-filled cove, but not far, and he's still flipping.

Latest Content