KEEP ON TRUCKING

WENT FROM SERIOUSLY pissed off to a murderous rage at some point in the wee hours of the morning. This was after I’d given up all hope of sleep. My cognitive function was frazzled. My grip on sanity had slipped. By then, my buddy Lee Davis and I had pulled everything out of the back of the truck. We booted the dog. We shoveled sleeping bags and pads, shotguns, dove stools, a cooler, drink cans, bags of chips, and candy bar wrappers into a heaping pile in the cornfield. We