Trip to Ouray

We started the night off as normal at our most favorite establishment in the entire world, El Rancho Tavern, in Durango.  Beers, scotch, and shots of Jager were flowing as expected, but this night was a tad different, as the moon was in full swing and we all know how the crazies come out.  As always a bad influence on the Mook, I say, "let's get out of here and get some hootch"...because obviously being at a bar there is no liquor? 

We get in Brad's 1990ish Ford Bronco II and head to the local liquor store by City Market on the north side of Durango and proceed to purchase one pint of Jack Daniels and a six-pack of Budweiser (Brad's choice obviously if anyone knows me).  After sitting there for a moment or two, we said "fuck it, let's go on a drive.  I know some folks up in Ouray that we can crash with!".  Mind you that Ouray is located in the deepest, most treacherous part of southwestern Colorado, just a pinch away from Telluride; beautiful country, but a hell of a fuck long drive for two wasted hombres.

I'll finish this in a bit...just hold on, because it gets a little whacko

Slayer in the trunk and whiskey in the gut

The year was 1993ish, Chant's mythical Honda spurred a million different episodes of the Brad factor, but one particular event always sticks out in my head the most.  The night began with a normal trip to the local Circle K for cigarettes and stolen candy bars, simple adolescent fuel for the night's pre-planned debauchery.  This was a simpler time, before IPods and Xbox's, before text messaging and video phones, and before people frowned on putting a drunken Mexican in the trunk of a Honda...

Hear me out, though, as Brad actually never minded going in the trunk, as this was the closest spot to the whiskey and the cheap speakers, but I think overall Brad chose the trunk so that his friends could enjoy the backseats.  That is just how Brad was, a very giving and thoughtful Amigo.

Give this a thought and I'll post more as it seems fit.