Man, that's a lot different than riding the bicycle a mile or so when 14 to ask the hobum if he'd get us some Colt 45 or a jug of Red Mountain if we paid for a bottle of Gallo White Port for him.
Small town...everyone knew everyone. No bums where I am from, but there were plenty of dirt bags. Trouble was, I didn't need people talking about what I was up to.
That, and I could hunt the entire way up there back in the glory 90's. Can't quite do that now
We couldn't hunt around our place, even back in the 70's.
Well, maybe dickie birds out of the peach tree in my buddy's back yard.
I think I would have enjoyed growing up in your part of the world. Hunting on the way back might have been problematic though, to say the least.
If you didn't have any bums, did you at least have Colt 45, Schlitz Malt Liquor, Old English 800, or maybe some good MD 20-20 wine. Hopefully you weren't going for the Keystone Ice.
The desert is a true treasure for him who seeks refuge from men and the evil of men. In it is contentment In it is death and all you seek (Quoted from "The Bleeding of the Stone" Ibrahim Al-Koni)
