And as I walked, and sometimes crawled through these hidden, overgrown and utterly forgotten areas, I ruminated - as I am wont to do - on many things, and in doing so posited the following:
No matter how far off the beaten path you think you've trod, no matter how deep into the wilderness you think you've ventured, no matter how bold or adventurous you think you are, no matter how isolated, lonely or rugged the country, and no matter how arduous or lengthy the journey may have been, there will always, always be someone who has been there before you. With a beer in their hand. Because that's the American Way.
I did not actually drink this beer, I just needed the pull-tab to complete the curtain to my black light room.
ReplyDeleteModern life is rubbish
ReplyDeleteSBW
Back in 1971 a buddy and I trekked to the top of an obscure unnamed mountain in NW Montana overlooking a long high ridge that had over the years produced a lot of elk for my companion's grandfather (who in his youth had worked in the Idaho lumber camps with one of the troopers who discovered and cleaned up Custer's Last Stand). It was a beautiful place of virgin timber (the mountain not the Little Bighorn!) in the middle of nowhere. We followed an ancient game trail through lush green undergrowth and as we rounded a corner that opened upon a spectacular vista, there at our feet was the remnants of an ancient fire ring. And thrown in it was a rusting collection of Highlander and Great Falls Select beer cans. The old ones that required an opener. I wouldn't have thought anyone would have made it into that gawd forsaken place before, let alone packed in a case or two of beer! And certainly was no way to get horses up there either. The original Hardy Boys ... or Alky Boys?
ReplyDeleteI hope it was something other than a Natty lite at least.
ReplyDelete