So here I am up at 4:30, ready to go ice fishing for the first time in my life, Oh happy happy day! Tackle is stowed in the car with care, for all the people I haven't yet met will be there. The key is turned, the motor purrs, worries are spurned, and off I go!
Tim's soon makes an appearance, one large coffee for the highway, soon the carefree drive makes for the biway. What's this strange sound, a high pitched whine, could it, would it be a sign? The sign soon shows, a transmission it blows!
The 400 is a lonely place, not at all full of grace, the shoulder it seems it the place I will keen, as my trip to Barrie seems to be nary. What is this, an exit appears, the Bass pro is near! With a grind and a groan, and many a moan the saturn it seems will ruin my dreams, of fishing for Tyler today.
With a heavy heart as the plan falls apart, Tinbanger is called and told of the fall. With a heavy heart and saying such words as fart, my family is told of the terrible tragedy that befell me. A lilt in her voice and making the choice my wife cheered me up and said, "I'll pick you up".
The rest of the day we decided to play and found the car to get me to the next GTG with out screwing up.
Forgive the poetic licence.
So that is why I wasn't able to go to Fishing for Tyler today.