"What the hell you wanna go mess around that river for?"
"Because it's there."
"It's there alright and you get in it and can't git out, you gonna wish it wasn't."
Monday night I'll be channeling Burt Reynolds in Deliverance.
I'm going grunion hunting, a Southern California tradition steeped in lore (I'm told there's lore that the grunion are steeped in. I don't really know what that lore is. But the idea of lore makes the adventure more thrilling.)
Grunion are small, silvery fish, that - as far as I can tell - pose no danger to anyone or thing. This time of year, they hurl themselves onto the beach to spawn.
Then, masses of humans race to the water's edge, gunny sacks and flashlights in hand, to scoop up the unsuspecting love-makers and... well... kill them.
Why? Because they're there.