I believe the count is nine spinning reels and five fly reels. I think of most being 'new' but when it comes time to clean them I realize their average age is seven or eight years. And they're not as smooth as they once were. Regardless, they work, so once again it's time to crack 'em open send them to grease and oil heaven for another year.
My mind wanders when doing these kind of things. Not supposed to. Good thing I wasn't a neurosurgeon. The idea is to focus, do a good job, not drop any of the tiny screws on the floor and most of all, not have any parts left over. But it's not always the reel I'm seeing and the screws do occasionally fall. Lines from songs pry their way into my head and won't go away. Lately it's been Dylan's "I started out on burgundy but soon hit the harder stuff." What the hell that's doing up between my ears is beyond me. Maybe there's a message hidden within the lyrics?
Couldn't resist, looked it up on the internet. The song is "Just Like Tom Thumb Blues." In it Bob seems to be having a hard time. The world's a dangerous, unloving place and no one seems to be his friend. Huh, who'd have ever thought he'd felt that way back in '65? Oh yeah, I almost forgot, a lot of his songs kinda fit that mold.
So, how does that tie into oiling fishing reels? Well, I was off in my own little room even if it's not in Juarez like in the song, away from the rest of the world but there was no wine involved. 'Specially not burgundy. Gives me headaches and bitters up my tongue.
Okay, okay, I couldn't leave it alone and had to read the Tom Thumb fairy tale. In short, the moral is there's no place like home. At the end of the song that's exactly what Dylan was doing, heading back to New York. Guess he didn't think much of his days growing up in Minnesota. And in the fairy tale's return trip the little feller goes through a whole lot of crap just like Bob does in the song. Makes me want to finish oiling so I can wind some new line on the spools.