Happy belated Father's Day to everyone out there who gets to be called dad!
Hunting and Father's Day go together like ice cream and apple pie! Two scoops for dear ole' dad! As hunters, being a father, having a father, and the quality of that relationship have been the foundation of thousands of years of mentorship, friendship, and memories.
I have no children, and I'll always wish I did.
I didn't get to hunt much with my dad before he passed in 2016. Hunting just wasn't his thing, but that's ok. He facilitated plenty of opportunities for me through friendships, mentors, financial support, and my first set of wheels. Sometimes dads do things for us that they hardly ever or even never get to enjoy with us. My first car was one of them, and here is my best memory of that car.
Back in my youth, I was the proud owner of a 1979 Chevy Monza. It was primer gray and green, and whatever color rust was back then. It was good on gas but horrible on oil. The AC didn't work, the trunk wouldn't open, and getting anything bigger than a backpack into the backseat of a Monza was a fool's errand. But, my dad got it for me, and as we all know, the only requirement of a hunting vehicle is that you take it hunting. I did. A lot.
One day, I connected with what was probably either a suicidal deer or a deaf and blind one with my Martin Lynx Magnum bow when I was 16 years old. I dragged that deer, a four-point buck, about a mile back to the Monza and did what anyone would have done to get him home. I propped up that little four-point buck in my passenger seat like he was my best friend, and we drove home with my arm hanging out of one window and his front leg hanging out of the passenger window. Now, archery season in North Carolina was usually hot, and that gutted (badly) deer was an awe-inspiring odor experience all the way home, windows down or not. Regardless, I got a lot of attention on the drive home. The best moment was when I pulled through a McDonald's drive-thru and the lady in the window, without flinching, asked me if I wanted any fries for my friend.
I never did get the smell of that deer out of the car, but it didn't matter because the car didn't last much longer after that hunt. The very next weekend the transmission dropped out of the car at an IHOP in Fayetteville, NC while I was on a date. My dad had the car towed to a junkyard, he dropped my date off at her house, and we drove all the way home without saying a word. A year later I graduated from high school, joined the navy, and bought my first vehicle, a 1990 Ford Ranger. It was green with a bench seat, manual transmission, and of course, no A/C. But, who cared? It sure was a lot easier to get deer in and out of than that Monza, and it never left me stranded.
As always, please feel free to contact me with comments or suggestions to improve The Hunting Wire at email@example.com
Bob Pinsky' son, Jay