We lost him.

After 18 years and a quarter-million miles, he gave up the ghost. The list of issues he’s overcome is long, but this last setback was one bump in the road too many.

Technically, my Subaru Forester still runs. I wouldn’t call it “efficient” or “safe” or “smart” to drive, though.

I’m on the hunt for a new car that will get me from point A to point B. And, of course, one that will adequately get me to point F[ishing]. So along with age and miles and fuel efficiency I’m thinking about ground clearance and trunk width and if I can sleep in it.

I’ll properly eulogize the Subaru soon enough. It deserves it. But for now, I want to share some remembrances by pulling some posts from the Casting Across vault. Click the title or the photo for the whole article.  Enjoy, and keep your chin up. After all, it is what my car would want.

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Fly Fishing Gear Review: 2001 Subaru Forester Rear Bumper

Let’s start with some of the more impressive features: Need to put your waders on? Well, let me tell you – there aren’t going to be any conveniently located benches at roadside pull offs. This perfectly positioned platform provides a place for your posterior while prying off or pulling on your waders.

A Night in the Car: Fine Fly Fishing Accommodations

Can it be uncomfortable? Can it be cramped? Sometimes it is. I can’t imagine I’ll be doing it in my 60’s. But isn’t that what pop-up campers are for? Until that day when I’m independently wealthy or physically unable to do so, I’ll spend a few nights in the car while on fishing trips. Here are some common-sense tips for a better night’s sleep in a vehicle:

Fly Fishing Stinks: A List

I went fishing in the warm outflow of a local water treatment plan. The science is simple: warmer water draws fish in during the winter. The science is even simpler than that when it comes to the funk that occupied my hatchback: cleaned and processed poopy water is still going to have some poopy notes. And all the residual microscopic nasties lacing my waders and boots had been broiling away in my sealed-up car throughout an unseasonably warm Virginia day. Now my car was quite literally privy to the odor of someone’s privy.