"Hey, Cousin Don. Old Uncle Rich is telling that story again. Next, he'll be shouting at his nurse, and exposing himself to the orderlies."
Well, then, to continue:
The mushrooms having taken full effect, my traveling companion in the car behind and I stopped to roll some of that low grade ganja for a quick smoke along the Colorado River between Glenwood Springs and Grand Junction. And it was then that I noticed the ol' Dodge come to life sonically. With no radio, only the roaring of the engine and wind were there to sing. And so it was -- amazing how much fidelity became apparent in the imagined performance of "Happiness is a Warm Gun" by that ol' Dodge as it rattled adn roared in perfect time and amazing harmony.
Onward we went through Grand Junction and into Utah, the clouds streaming eastward at altitude, far above us -- just like from a Roy Rogers movie. For a moment or a hundred, I imagined that childhood holster and sixshooter, trigger and happy trails. And the song continued on: "haaaaaa-ppi-ne-e-ess . . . is a warm gun . . . yessss it i-isssss, . . . mama . . . "