Just as we arrived at the fishing spot, I realized with a sudden panic where my new rod was. I bolted out of the truck, looked into the bed, and yelled, "Nooooo!" There it was, half buried under Huss' dead fridge. I retrieved it to find the top four eyelets (which we always called "eyes") flattened and dangling. Greg and Pierce casually reached into the bed of the truck and grabbed their rods, neither of which seemed damaged in the least. Then Pierce, noticing the sick look on my face, asked me what happened.