I too grew up fishing from an early age.
We had a fantastic creek just across the road from our home place thriving with smallmouth and many farm ponds.
Mom would make us boys work the garden each morning before we were allowed to go fishing and would pay us a small allowance according to our work ethic and behavior.
I was saving my allowance for a new rod and reel at the local Western auto in our small town.
This was early 70's and still remember this black Olympic spinning reel that I absolutely had to have so with a pocket full of money, off I went.
Got home, spooled the reel with new line, filled my new tackle box with shiny new rapala's and beetle spins....I was the man.
Across the road I went on a mission, hurdling the guardrail like I've done so many times before.
BUT this time I had additional weight from acquired tackle.
My lead foot didn't clear so I went hurling chest first onto a concrete culvert, landing on my reel and tackle box, crushing everything, nothing left usable.
Not all vivid memories are great ones.
Retired now and that one unfortunately really sticks out.