This trail was first brushed out by Sonny Sprague, the legendary Grand Lake Stream figure I wrote about in my book, “Where Cool Waters Flow.” The trail was too “boney” for a snowmobile, because the skis would bash into rocks just beneath the snow. Another half a foot to a foot of snow would be needed for good snowmobiling. It was about 9 miles roundtrip to access the “bait pond” where we had previously put traps.
We traveled overland on 8-10 inches of snow to a remote pond teaming with baitfish. This is one night’s haul, to be used on ice fishing outings in the coming weeks. They’ll be stored in a holding box under the ice in 8 feet of water.
Found: This Perrine, aluminum fly box containing approximately 125 home-tied flies was picked up in the parking lot of a convenience store somewhere in Maine. Apart from many creative patterns, perhaps invented at the vise of this fly tier, there are classic
imitations too: Black Ghosts, Hornbergs, Royal Coachman, and there appear to be some weighted nymphs as well as some flies tied with white marabou. If you can tell us where it may have been lost, we’d be happy to return it to you. To the fisherman who discovers this tremendous loss to his tackle cache, we sure hope we find you!
I’ve recently stepped, shyly, into the new truck market, after logging a solid 170,000 miles on my 1995 F150, soon headed down the road of diminishing returns. It still runs, as my father used to say, “like a Swiss watch,” but I do have clients to consider.
Out where I guide on the Canadian border waters, much of the work I ask of a truck is off-road. Off-road in the Maine willywacks is not the off-road of most TV truck commercials. “To hell and gone” in fact, is the exact map location of some of the best fishing. You need a good truck, preferrably with 10-ply tires, good ground clearance, and of course, four wheel drive.
I decided after some soul searching that I had no heartfelt allegiance to any make or model. Ford-lovers love to tell you that C-H-E-V-R-O-L-E-T stands for “can hear every valve rattle on long extended trips.” GM-lovers retort that, “found on roadside dead,” is what F-O-R-D stands for. I’ve owned both and neither were completely immune to issues.
So, in this spirit of impartiality, I looked at the dealership map of Maine, found online. It’s very handy–you hold the mouse over the location and a window pops up with the contact info. I called 7 dealerships in one morning. My mission was to find out who had the best promotions going on, the best interest rates and so on. I know what you’re thinking–in this depressed car and truck-buying economy, they probably couldn’t get into my wallet fast enough.
Well, you would think so. Here are my findings from this incomplete, unscientific survey of 7 Maine dealerships ranging from greater Portland to greater Bangor:
1. The first order of business is not to answer your questions, but to get you “into their system.” This means phone number, email, and home address.
2. After finally taking down information on the vehicle I’m in the market to buy, all except one salespeson said they would do the research and call back.
3. Two of the seven dealerships actually called back. Two out of Seven.
I know, this is beginning to sound like another, “Sorry, we’re open” story, and it probably is. I mean, from the dealership’s point of view, here is a prospective buyer calling!
Two of the sales people I talked to–well, that’s already a misrepresentation–these two guys did all the talking, talking over me, talking around me, talking down to me, and generally giving me the lecture they’d learned to recite in showroom training school.
One salesman, wanting my home address even before I got to say what I was after, was baffled when I asked why. It turned out that he could then check to see if I was on GM’s “list” which could mean a lower price and a better deal. “List?” I said. “I’m sorry,” I continued, “but before we go on, you’re going to have to tell me how my address, that is, where I live, is a factor in determining the deal I get?” This was too much for him. He reacted as if I’d said something about a family member, saying, “No one has ever asked me questions like these before.” Really?
I don’t know about you, but as soon as I find out I’m on a list, I want to know how I got there. Lists help someone to compartmentalize you, categorize you, classify you. Will my neighborhood show up as one deserving of a lower interest rate because there are more people who still have their jobs where I live? In short, “lists” can be not-so-subtle tools for discrimination.
I do understand wanting to classify buyers. But keep it to yourself for heaven’s sake. I’m just a working guy wanting a truck. I didn’t call to be interrogated. Instead of giving me a straightforward answer to my straightforward question, you’re trying to fit me into one of your buyer compartments so that you’ll know how best to deal with me.
So, kudos to the two of you who did actually call back on a prospective sale. But to all of you who persist in forcing your willing buyer to do business with you on your terms, expressing little interest in what theirs might be, please see my, “Sorry, we’re open” blog.
Epilogue: Buying a used truck from the guy down the road is beginning to look pretty good.
