Welcome to Just Old Flies

Welcome to 'just old flies,' a section of flies that used-to-be. These flies were tied with the only materials available. Long before the advent of 'modern' tying materials, they were created and improved upon at a far slower pace than todays modern counterparts; limited by materials available and the tiers imagination.

Most books, and yes, even we here, bring 'new and improved' designs; however, in days long gone, fish readily accepted these creations; there existed a 'fraternity' of anglers who felt an obligation to use only the 'standard' patterns of the day. We hope to bring a bit of nostalgia to these pages and to you. Perhaps you will enjoy them. Perhaps you will fish them. Perhaps . . .


Part Ten

Motorcycles-Uzis and Feathers

By "Old Rupe"


Technically this tale doesn't belong here. Its a story about feathers, not flies. It's a tale of motorcycles and chicken fighting and high dollar machine guns. A little something for everyone.

Years ago I practiced pharmacy in a different part of town. It was a 3-day-a-week 14-hour job that let me fish and still work a regular job. I carried a 45 like I did in Nam, cocked and locked, a 38 in an ankle holster and a 25 in the pocket of my smock. Not the ideal professional environment, but I could fish 4 days a week.

During the course of my practice I ran across several interesting individuals. Ron and Dan will forever be etched on my mind. Two great guys that just lead different life styles. They were stereotyped bikers, tatoos and dress. Leathers and such. These were not low life people, just people that had pursued a different path. I could relate to them because I put 25,000 miles on a bike south of the border and 12,000 miles in Europe.

Usually on Saturday night when I closed we would meet in the parking lot and drink imported German beer. We would discuss life and in the course of these discussions my fly tying habit came up. The comment that "We go to the local cock fights," elicited the response from me "well just bring me the loosers." That night Ron said "Let show you this nice piece," I looked for the honey but Ron opened his vest and there was a 380 Uzi with a funny little leather rig that slicked that gun out faster than you could spit. Dan and Ron both had these "toys." They said a Uzi stopped a lot of trouble. I could believe that.

About a week later an hour or so before closing here came Ron and Dan with a Bulky Las gunny sack full of half frozen chickens. Boy did they stink. I dragged the sack into the back room and just hoped the night would end quickly. I ask "Where did you get them," and the reply was "At the chicken fight." I just couldn't believe that they would allow two guys to just pick up evidence.

I took them home and cleaned them. My wife locked the bedroom door and I spent four to five hours cleaning and boraxing those nasty chickens. She never again complained about the price of my chicken necks.

A week or so later Ron and Dan showed up for our weekly beer do and I ask "Why did they let you take them." Ron said, "Dan took out his Uzi and I just put the chickens into the gunny sack." "Nobody said a word."

I can believe that. ~ Old Rupe


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