I am exceptionally proud of the fact that I haven’t ordered any tackle in months, including during the five day period in October when I was stuck at home following sinus surgery. Of course, bragging about my monastic spending habits rings a little bit hollow when I admit that I ordered a new boat and 250 horsepower Mercury during that supposed hiatus.
When it comes to lures, line and terminal tackle, I’ve been clean. That ended in Texas.
It really wasn’t my fault.
I had four hours to kill on Friday afternoon after Clark Reehm left for Louisiana but before I was due to meet up with Keith Combs for dinner. I was in the town of Lufkin, just forty miles of easy highway from the promised land of Brookeland, where Tackle Addict stands, close to the Sam Rayburn Dam. That’s the end of the lake where I used to stay back in the late 90s, so I wanted to check out some old landmarks (like the restaurant called “The Stump,” formerly “Dorothy’s, which was immortalized on an episode of “The Bassmasters”). I hopped in my little rental Hyundai swagger wagon, set the GPS, and made the drive without a second thought.
Tackle Addict did not disappoint. It is everything that a good shop should be, with well-stocked and well-organized displays featuring every staple in every color, along with lots of little regional and lesser-known oddities. Normally, I am rushed when I’m in a tackle store, either heading to/from the lake, or with some other obligation to serve, but I had no such constraints this time around. I literally had all of the time I needed to work methodically through every aisle. I was impressed at every turn. Every state and every major tournament venue should have a shop like that.
In the end I only spent around 45 bucks, but I was on the verge of spending a couple thousand, if that makes any sense at all. It is a dangerous place, the type of establishment where a man could end up giving up on his resolutions and sacrificing any shred of discipline. I will be back.