The mystery of the cowboy revealed
Ah-ha! So that�s how it works. I�ve often wondered about the mating rituals of these elusive men, figuring that somehow, horses were involved, or Stetson cologne, but now I knew for sure. It�s all about the truck. I drove up alongside it, smiling and nodding, alternately pointing to my mouth and giving the �thumbs-up� sign, to indicate my willingness to �make out,� but the driver was consumed with singing along to Molly Hatchet, and didn�t notice me. Perhaps at some point in the future I�ll run across him again and be ordered to �get in the truck,� but in the meantime, I have a great idea for a line of custom bumper stickers, highlighting the mating rituals of other groups:
Sailors� foreplay: Get in the dinghy!
Divemasters� foreplay: Get in the decompression chamber!
Mechanics' foreplay: Get in the garage!
Nuclear physicists� foreplay: Get in the particle accelerator!
Toxic mold removal specialists� foreplay: Get in the cellar!
Birthday party clowns� foreplay: Get in the unmarked panel truck idling outside!
Star of the day. . .Brooks. But not Dunn.