Part One: I Fantasized About The Hat

On my way to Wildacres, this hat comes racing up behind me. I had JUST gotten a speeding ticket in Chesnee, SC when this crackass comes hurdling around a curve and right up my arse. Certain it was another cop, I slow to a crawl. Yeah. Lookit, I was five-minutes past a $155 fine for going 52 in a 25 (School Zone – Win.)

After about twenty minutes going 30 mph, I realize that no, it ain’t a cop. I relax, light a smoke, but continue my piddlin’ speed. Because I’m entranced by this fucking hat. I can’t tell what it is. On whose head it sits. Baffled, I become convinced that it’s a large, black, floppy church hat.

Shortly after my church-hat revelation, the road opens up and the broken yellow line appears. The hat comes speeding past me. I strain to see the wearer. And I just. Can’t. Figure. It. Out. The car whizzes by and jerks back into the right-hand lane. Oh yeah, the hat is pissed. But damn, if you don’t want attention, don’t wear a mesmerizing hat, a’ight?

We enter Rutherfordton. After several tries at several slow points, we finally stop at a light and I whip the phone camera into action. And this–this is the moment I realize that the driver is not, in fact, an old black woman with a massive hat. It’s a cowboy.

This, friends, is a cowboy. In a Crown Vic.

This, friends, is a cowboy. In a Crown Vic.



Filed under Utterly Random

6 responses to “Part One: I Fantasized About The Hat

  1. But look, no one can blame you for assuming it was an old black woman because those broads are WICKED PROUD of their fierce hats. And their hats? Are fierce.

  2. Cowboys drive Crown Vics?

  3. Bill

    I miss the SC plate on the car.

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