My father passed after a long bout with cancer when I was 12. Took me fishing a few times, didn't have the patience but did take me duck a few times before he died. After he died my grandfather became my fishing buddy. He loved to fish and even bought a camp on Toledo to the she grin of my grandmother. He lived in DeRidder and would stop at the local sporting goods store there and buy whatever lures the guy behind the counter told him they were biting on. Never once did he show up without a brown bag full of shite we never caught anything on. Once he hired a guide to show him and I how to catch bass on a Texas rig. We would fish and fish with worms but after half hour or so with no luck, back to the tried and true. Top water, spinners, crank baits and the such. Didn't catch a whole lot on those either but a little more action than the slow presentation of worm fishing. Any who, we meet the guide one morning and my Granddad explains our trials and tribulations of fishing plastic and would he help us gravitate to become better worm fishermen. The guide explains he could, but if you want to catch numbers, send your grandson across the street to the bait store and buy a half dozen of these top water baits called "Boy Howdy's". They were a top water bait with two treble hooks a small weight and spinner on the end of the bait. Silver and black. Granddad gives me a twenty and I buy as many as I could. We head out in the guides boat and catch over ten before a thunderstorm run us off the lake around lunch time. So we eat and Granddad takes a nap while the storm passes and meet the guide around 1 back at his boat. We pick up a few here and there, but right about 5 we get into a school or schools and commence to start tearing em up. Five times we all had fish on at the same time, and I caught seven in seven straight casts. Back then 15 was the limit and we were keeping the bigger ones and throwing smaller ones back into the water. We laughed all the back home on our ill fated Texas rig fishing excursion.