Miles of open road, a half-full tank, and no place to be. The desert moves at its own pace, and so does she. The sun dips low, the air turns crisp, and the only thing left is to sit back, sip slow, and let the dust settle where it may.
This cowboy went west seeking the toughest ride known to man. He conquered every bull he could find and kept goin’. The big orange whiskered fellah was a different sorta beast.
Rode hard into a typhoon for several days. Couldn’t see five feet in front of our faces, but we drove the herd till we found some new country to pasture ‘em in. They grill their fish over charcoal and serve it with pickled plums in these parts.