So today, driving back to my parents house, I came through the little town of Orfordville. This is the town I would have gone to high school in, had I not been one of those basement-dwelling home schooled social inepts. So this town has no stoplights, although there are those warning lights by the railroad tracks downtown, and just one gas station. I’m coming by the gas station, and there’s this big truck that has containers like a recycling truck out front. Only it’s not a recycling truck, and the containers are refrigerated. It was a bait truck.
There was a guy standing up by one of the lids, fishing around with a huge green net, and a few other guys standing around or carrying those little styrafoam containers of whatever it is that lures in unsuspecting fish. I guess I never thought about it before, but that bait has to come from somewhere, and I guess I didn’t think that each individual gas station went out and dug up worms from Farmer Johnson’s back lot every two or three days . . . but a bait truck? So weird. I wish I’d taken a picture.