I grew up in a place where Jim Shoulders and Ty Murray,  Casey Tibbs, Bruce Ford and the Etbauers, Roy Cooper and Joe Beaver were more likely heros than the latest actor, athlete, or pop star.  It seems however that wet saddle blankets, hours spent baking in the sun, dirty boots and jeans, border collie dogs, the comforting odor of horse shit, more hours spent in the barn than the house, coffee in the morning, beer after four, miles and miles of honestly straight roads — things that used to be the norm — are increasingly reduced to foggy memories and a few old pictures.

I really should pick up that habit again.  However, I was usually drunk at 3 AM when I did this, and sadly grown-up life just won’t allow me pull that off anymore.