by Laredo » Mon Apr 07, 2008 9:00 pm
I too had a stop with a bottle of root beer.
The sheriff's deputy saw me at 2 a.m. with a brown glass longneck bottle in the hand I didn't have on the wheel.
I had been up since 5:30 the previous morning, driving from Brownfield to Big Spring, working all day, driving to Water Valley to cover a six-man playoff game, then heading back to Big Spring to write up the story before a nap. It's more than possible I was driving too slowly or maybe even weaving; heaven knows I was tired enough.
When I offered the deputy a swallow of my IBC (which was cold, barely open so the bottle still smoked a little, and really good) he just shook his head and told me to go home and go to bed.
"What're you drinkin'?"
"Root beer. Want some?"
I suspect he'd slept since I had...
Mopar's what my busted knuckles bleed, working on my 318s...