The angler was heading home from work. The road was full of pot holes and he drove slowly and carefully, though eagerly as well. At the bottom of the hill was a bridge spanning a familiar creek. His wife and child weren't going to be home for a while so he had plans for this creek. He slowed down even more when the bridge came into view; with a smile on his face he stopped the truck on the bridge. It was a one lane bridge and there wasn't much traffic here. With a glance in the rear view mirror he knew he was alone as the truck came to a stop. He stepped out of the truck and leaned over the rail.