The path of the fly fisherman never ends. Either you walk or sit behind the wheel. We depend on our wheels as much as a good pair of wading shoes. Often we travel at night. Often our refuge is a gas station along the road. To rest a worn out soul or to kick start it for continuation. Basically the menu contains of sugar, caffein and junk. We get to see the night creatures at these places. These lukewarm nights at the station with the greaser Impalas or their daddy’s Caddi makes you appreciate the night driving.