A loose radio dial rolled into my tackle tray while I was clearing the bench. It was a thin oval of brass, just heavy enough to flutter when I dropped it into a mug of water. By supper, I had added a wire loop and talked myself into calling it an invention.
The first cast landed at my feet. The second snagged the dock. On the third, the little brass oval began to hum against the wire. Not loudly, but enough to make the line vibrate between my fingers.
The lure leaves the workbench
I took it to the sheltered station inlet. Halfway back through the dark water, the hum stopped. A bass had closed its mouth around the brass and was moving under the moored skiff. I eased the rod around the bow and followed with the net.
The fish was larger than any I had expected to meet behind the workshop. After releasing it, I returned the lure to the bench. The dial no longer tuned the radio, but I could hardly call it broken.
The object you meant to throw away may still have a second job.
