I was drinking Golden Cadillacs at the Million Dollar Cowboy Bar.

It was a reward for finishing my thesis. A trip to Jackson Hole. Where it dumped four days straight and then the sun came out and turned the snow into corn up top and mashed potatoes down below. Yes, I skied Corbet’s, navigated the bumps on Thunder, but the skiing wasn’t the highlight of that trip.

It was the first week of April. The joint was almost empty. And on a ride up the tram I met this guy from Maryland, who’d given up his job in the hotel industry, he’d been a sommelier, to follow the flake. That’s the pull of snow. It’s kind of like crack, it’ll make you give up everything else you’ve ever known.

And when you’re flying solo on 2,500 acres, you look for friends, even if they don’t ski as well as you. It gets lonely on the mountain.

And at the end of the day, this guy squeezed me for a shower. He was staying in his van. Did I mind if he employed the hot water in the hostel to soothe his sorry skin?

I couldn’t say no.

And then he suggested dinner at the Mangy Moose.

And when we had a good buzz on, that’s when you gain a sense of adventure, this dude suggested we drive into town, Jackson, Wyoming, which is about a dozen miles from Teton Village, the ski resort.

And of course I said yes. Things were different. Now all the action is at home, in front of a screen. But back then, to live a full life you had to be willing to take chances, you had to go for the ride.

And when we got into town we pulled up in front of the aforementioned Million Dollar Cowboy Bar. Where the bar is inlaid with silver dollars and the stools are saddles. And that’s when my new friend insisted we drink Golden Cadillacs. And we imbibed Flaming Drambuies too. We were getting good and wasted. Not blitzed, but energized. You know, powerful. Like the world is your oyster, like you can get everything you want if you just give it a try.

So I did.

I got up from the bar. I decided to talk up some women.

Straight I’d be too meek. But with a full tank of gas, I had the confidence of Warren Beatty.

And they’re playing some shitkicking country music, the real country, not the faux rock and roll they make in Nashville today. And I approach these two girls on the dance floor and start joking about the tunes, endearing myself to them, and everything was going quite swimmingly…

Until I found myself on the floor.

I’m a middle class college student from the suburbs. It doesn’t even occur to me that these women could be spoken for.

Actually, it was just one.

And this guy decided to protect his turf.

I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. Whether he was going to stomp the living daylights out of me or…

I was paralyzed.

But my buddy, who’d suddenly become recalcitrant, who’d allowed me to fly solo on this venture, ran over from the bar, picked me up, grabbed me by the arm and we started to RUN!

They were forming a posse. Literally. Growing a group to outnumber and pulverize us.

But we made it to the van intact. And my newfound buddy turns the key in the ignition and…

It doesn’t start.

But then it did.

And the street is covered with snow. We’re slippin’ and a slidin’. But we’re on the go.

Not saying a word. Worried they’re gonna get in their machines and follow us.

But when we reach the outskirts of town, we start to laugh. Nervously. We’d lived through the experience.

And then this guy pulled a case from behind the seat and told me to pick out a tape.

It was full of cassettes. In an era when 8-tracks were still king. This guy was cool.

But not that cool. I figured the case was going to be filled with the likes of Grand Funk Railroad.

But it wasn’t.

I’m perusing the titles and I come across one of my favorites. Bonnie Raitt’s "Takin My Time".

It was a disappointment after the exquisite "Give It Up". Still, "Takin My Time" contained this one amazing track, "I Feel The Same".

It’s written by Chris Smither. Who deserves more acclaim. But it sounds nothing like any of his recordings of the title. Primarily because of one Lowell George.

The acoustic intro rips out your heart, it’s the opposite of the in your face music sold today.

And Bonnie starts to sing like her heart’s just been broken.

And Billy Payne tickles the ivories.

But when Lowell George starts to wail, something inside of you starts to sparkle, you feel like a door has opened and you’ve passed through to a better world.

Lowell’s brilliance first announces itself at 1:42. It’s not about flash, but about tone and technique, the SOUND! Lowell George trafficked in subtlety.

But the most memorable playing is yet to come. At 3:38 Lowell starts doing something I can only describe as chicken-pickin’. Multiple guitars are wailing. You marvel at the magic coming out of the speakers.

And that’s what I put on this guy’s car stereo. "I Feel The Same". I put the cassette in on the wrong side, flipped it over, fast-forwarded and reversed it until I could hear the track from beginning to end.

My friend was nodding his head. I’ll never forget the Milky Way hovering above us, sparkling through the vast windshield of his Econoline. It’s one of the most memorable moments of my life.

P.S. "I Feel The Same" is not the only great track on "Takin My Time", just the best. Be sure to check out Eric Kaz’s "Cry Like A Rainstorm", which Bonnie covered long before Linda Ronstadt. "I Thought I Was A Child" has a different feel from Jackson Browne’s original, which was released simultaneously. It’s not better, but it’s definitely worth hearing. And then there’s Joel Zoss’s "I Gave My Love A Candle"… Joel wrote my favorite track on "Give It Up", "Too Long At The Fair", and "I Gave My Love A Candle" is nearly as good. And if you like these, check out the rest of "Takin My Time". You’ll dig it.

Spotify link