I'm On A Horse

I do, in fact, have a cowboy hat, but I didn't wear it because I figured other horse riders would expect too much from me. Men in cowboy hats are expected to live up to some sort of reputation. Sing me a song, cowboy hat. Go round up some steer, cowboy hat. Hey, cowboy hat, tell me how to get to Texas from here.

At the Latta Equestrian Center, they have helmets instead. Girlfriend got an actual riding helmet that perfectly matched her riding clothes and boots. Mine made me look like a well-dressed phallus.

The Latta folks assigned me to Buck, the biggest horse in the stable. They brought out a little set of stairs so I could get on; their version of the airport stair car. Buck greeted me by taking a dump. Pride? Strike two.

Goodbye, T-Shirt From 1989

I took a trunkload of stuff from my dresser to Goodwill yesterday. It was emotional.

I am in the process of consolidating my dresser. Four drawers of t-shirts have to now fit into two, so things have to go. I piled up the excess next to the dresser, on top of sweaters, sweatshirts, ties and other clothes I no longer wear. Girlfriend helped me pick and choose. She held up a long sleeve blue and red striped shirt without a collar.

"Have you seen this in a store lately?" she asked.

"Not really," I said.

"That's because they don't sell this in a store anymore," she said, shaking the shirt slightly for emphasis.

"But I like that shirt," I said. "I wear that shirt."

"So did Pacey from Dawson's Creek," she said, shaking the shirt a little more forcefully. It landed in the 'no' pile.

The Amazing (Almost) True Story of my Left Front Hubcap

I don't know exactly how my front left hubcap removed itself from my car, but here's what I'd like to think happened:

I jumped through the window of my 2003 Chevy Cavalier, which I had conveniently forgotten to close in the rainstorm. I tossed the briefcase into the passenger seat and turned the ignition as three men ran toward me from the back of the coffee shop, opening fire and conveniently missing with every shot. They all piled into their surprisingly fast Model A and gave chase.

Game Day At South Point: How I Did It

A few people have asked me how I wrote this story on high school football in this month's issue of Charlotte Magazine, as if I had worked some sort of black magic to do it. There are, by my account, at least 22 people mentioned in it, not including the players on the field. Many are not named, because they came within earshot in a flash, then left just as quickly. Most play a supporting role. But they all have something to add.

For weeks, I looked for a school with a good story. I heard about superfans and great players and good programs, but none combined all three. Ira Cronin, my co-worker at NewsChannel 36, recommended the South Point Red Raiders. I'm glad he did.