[Editor's note: Tom Levine, Sam's Dad, shares his perspectives on choosing lures in the "Reflections" column of the April-May In-Fisherman.]

Old-timers don't get new lures. Take it from me. Now, all I have to do is show my dad a new lure. If he thinks it'll work, then you wouldn't see me dead with that lure! But if his opinion is that it's the worst fishing lure ever created in the history of mankind, and that if I use it I'll never catch another fish in my life, I'll know for sure that it will be a great lure.

For instance, take one of the most phenomenal lures I've ever used, which I got out of a soft-plastics bin in a fishing shop. It was green, with a hard rubber core running down its length, and on each side was a thin wavy edge. I asked Dad for some money to buy the 6-cent lure. Almost as soon as I'd uttered the words, he jumped on me: "Sam, you do know that lure is completely useless, right? Are you sure you want to waste your young life using it? Here, get something else with your 6 cents."

The next day we went down to a local lake, and I forced Dad to "ruin a good hook with that horrible abomination." Guess what? The horrible abomination caught six bass. Compared to Dad's one fish, that was pretty good. My lure's now been eaten by so many bass that it's falling apart and is now in a place of honor in my tackle box . Dad still insists that the huge number of fish I got on it were flukes. I know for a fact that isn't true, as I caught bass, not flounder, on it.

The next "monster" that Dad believed was useless was a blue-backed Rapala, another one of my best lures. I collect Rapala lures, firmly believing they're flawless in every way and quite possibly the best series ever made. So I was looking through Dad's huge tackle box and came across an old, worn, blue-backed Rapala. I asked him if I could have it, and he said yes, but he added, "That lure? Don't do it , son! Don't!"

About a week later, we went down to another local lake. I decided to try my "new" Rapala, and got an immediate strike. I pulled in a one-pound bass. Five minutes later, I got another, larger strike which I missed. Then I got another, set the hook into it, but missed it, too. (Don't ask me how I missed all these strikes on a lure with nine hooks. It just happened.) Strangely enough, after the lure popped out of the fish's mouth, it landed in the water near the shore and something hit it. Of course, the fish dropped the lure before I could reel up the slack. But then the fish started biting for real: I got two 3-pounders and a 4 1/2-pound lunker. Dad nearly cried. He only caught two bass that day. I didn't let him borrow the lure because he'd said it was a "terrible lure" and you'd never get anything on it. You'd think he'd have learned his lesson by now, but no.