Ice Fishing — The Original Die Hards
One of my earliest memories of ice fishing is traveling down the middle of Oneida Lake in a late 70’s four door Ford sedan doing about 30 miles per hour. The driver was a guy named Sam Pirano. The front passenger — with a bottle of red wine squeezed between his legs — was a fellow named Walter Lorezel. His glasses were thicker than the bottom of a coke bottle and hung precarious on the bridge of his big red nose like scaffolding falling off a building. My Dad’s ice fishing buddies. I was about 12 years old and sat in the middle of theRead More →