Some of us just can't pull off wearing a Cowboy Hat. And some of us should never wear one. You won't find this hat home on the range... you'll find it home on your noggin'!
The Javelina makes its home deep in the rugged Southwestern Desert. Here, this desert dweller's got all it needs- perfectly content with the fruit of the prickly pear and the shade of a mesquite tree. Think we'll pour us up some Sotol and join.
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.
“Howdy Partner” is so 1800s. “Howdy Dude” is in. Saddle up, get them little doggies along, and welcome to the modern era of cowboy camaraderie. Or at least that’s how we think stuff like this gets invented in SoCal. Authenticity, folks.
The undisputed king of the backcountry, built like a freight train with claws that could tear apart a picnic basket—or a pickup truck. It doesn’t run or hide. If a bear wants something, it takes it. Keep your eyes peeled when you're out there!
Heart beating heavy in your ears, the unmistakable smell of fuel and burning rubber (perhaps some manure), this is the race of a lifetime. Everything has built to this moment, this quarter mile. Ya better be ready. On yer marks, get set, GIDDY UP!
It ain’t a deer, it ain’t a moose, and it sure isn’t your imagination. It is El Fantasma del Bosque—a shadow with antlers, slipping through the trees. You won’t hear it or see it, but rest assured—it just saw you. Or... maybe it was your imagination?
Sharp as a mesquite thorn and tough as nails, el coyote doesn’t ask for a seat at the table. It sneaks in, swipes your green chile enchiladas, and vanishes. It runs with ghosts and thrives where nothin' else can. Life in the desert, enchiladas aside.
Picture yourself on the banks of the Río Grande: crisp mountain air, cold Lone Stars in the cooler, the perfect fly on your line. This is the dream. But there's only one thing that can make it better— that first take from La Trucha Del Norte!
Sometimes you plan it, but most nights it just sneaks up on ya. Next thing you know, you’re sitting at a Waffle House at 3am drinkin’ cheap black coffee wonderin’ where the night went. Our best guess? You got a little rowdy, amigo.
We kept going west till we ended up somewhere else entirely. Maybe it was east. Maybe it was a fever dream. All we know is, the sashimi was fresh, the barstools were low, and the neon signs looked mighty familiar.
Different mother, still my brother. Six shooters and samurai swords? It’s all basically the same. Underneath it all, we’re just two old souls searchin’ for our next cold one.
When you’re lost in the Galactic West, ridin’ a horse named Jupiter in the asteroid belt, a laser-proof sidekick is all you need to stay on the straight and narrow. Fair warning.
When you’re lost in the Galactic West, ridin’ a horse named Jupiter in the asteroid belt, a laserproof sidekick is all you need to stay on the straight and narrow. Fair warning.
