Stopping Off for "One."

For my father's generation, stopping off for one was a time-honored tradition. I distinctly remember the evenings, usually on payday, when dad was late, dinner was late and mom was silently fuming. Of course in those days, the wife could say little more than, “You're late. Supper is ruined.” Dad would just shrug nonchalantly and say, “The boys wanted to stop off for one.” Or two or three.

Things were different in those days. Not only have gender relations changed dramatically, but it is inconceivable that, in this age of instantaneous and continuous communication, anyone could be hours late for dinner without explanation. Which kind of takes the fun out of it. “Honey, I'm stopping off at the tavern to relax and drink three beers with my buddies so hold off dinner,” just doesn't have the same satisfaction.

Yet, there is value in the tradition. Most days, the daily commute allows sufficient time to shed the day's travails, but some workdays require further decompression. Many times I have come home tense and surly—and have been called out for it. Rightly so. There is no need to punish your family for your own stress. Better to stop off for one, and get your shit together, before you create needless strife.

That's why I keep a fishing pole in my Jeep.

I am fortunate in that my daily 16 mile commute roughly follows the course of a small desert river. I'm sure most people who drive the road don't even think about it. But I do. Everyday. Whether it's going to work and psyching myself up or coming home and decompressing, I glance down there and think about the flowing water. Even though most days I never see it, the water flows over my mind like a soothing hand. A river, even our little brown shallow trickle, is magical. Usually just knowing it is there is enough.

But some days I need an extra dose.

The “At the beach,” text message to my wife is shorthand for my favorite access point and means that I'm stopping off for one. The river is not known for its fishing. But that's not really the point. It's the t'ai chi of the cast and reel, the flow of the water, that makes fishing so soothing and addicting.

And when the fish does bite, stopping off for one (or two or three) makes all the difference in the world.

                                         After work on the Verde, last spring.