The Airwolf dream was completely shattered one early Saturday morning climbing up the Grapevine in my dads Bronco with our motorcycle trailer hitched to it and along came a convertible LeBaron with the top down to pass us. I was sitting in the back seat enjoying an egg McMuffin and alongside pulls Jan Micheal Vincent driving stupidly with an open California Cooler in hand an a bunch of empties on the passenger seat. Even at that age (probably 12 years old) I knew that dude was no hero. And then we went and jumped dirt bikes and tried to outrun my dad in his Bronco up and down sand washes until it got dark and then we set up tents, made a fire grilled some food, went to sleep and got even dirtier the next day. Then we packed everything up and went home and took long hot showers and slept in our own beds. I'll say you never really appreciate your bed until you get in with clean sheets after spending a couple of nights in a sleeping bag in a tent in the desert.
