The old man was covered in tattoos and scars...

Precious rode with us to Telluride for our recent vacation and was, I must say, a kick-ass travel companion. Not only did she bring her quick wit and great storytelling skills, she also brought good (read: fattening) snacks. And everybody knows good snacks are the key to a successful road trip.

Precious is newly single and...well, precious, so when we go out, she's kind of in demand. Such was the case our first night on the road in Durango.

The last stop on our downtown pub crawl was El Rancho, a kind of hole-in-the-wall dive bar. Well...as much of a dive bar as you can find in a town that charges $160 a night for somewhat shady accommodations in an EconoLodge.

Anyway, El Rancho is where Matty and Bob came into our lives. Matty was about 30, skinny as a rod and covered in tattoos. He also had a penchant for throwing everyone in the bar the finger (we decided later this was to show off his finger tats, although he kind of had a shitty "fuck you world" attitude, so that might've been the reason, too).

Matty and Precious danced the night away....she, a porcelain-skinned blonde, providing a stark contrast to his weathered, ink-infused dark skin. They weren't the oddest couple in the place, but they were pretty darn close. Anyway, it was during a particularly vigorous dance to She Goes Down by Motley Crue that she noticed the tattoo on the knuckles of his left hand. It said "FIDE." When she asked what that meant, Matty stopped mid-spin, threw up both knuckles side by side to show her that he was, in fact, BONA FIDE. A bona fide what, we are still trying to determine.

Then there was Bob, a sixtyish local who latched on to us later in the evening. He was a really nice guy, but a little...um..off. When we mentioned we were from Dallas, he told us he was here once not long ago...back in the 70s. It was in our great state that Bob met a couple who gave him a ride...and 7 hits of acid and he ended up in Durango shortly thereafter. It was obvious those 7 hits were just the tip of the iceberg for old Bob. We kind of wanted to ask him what year he thought it was. But decided to just buy him a beer and call it good.

While we're on the topic of picking up strays...

In Teullride, we met a late-30sish chick who we christened Thunder Pussy. She had, like 4 first names and after twice that many cocktails, we couldn't remember them all and TP just kind of "fit" her. She loved her new name and even came up with some for us which, of course (and unfortunately), made us all new BFFs. She was a local, so I'm sure meeting tourists who weren't rich assholes was a new experience for her. And, while she was nice and all, she was wasted beyond belief and kind of annoying. We didn't go back to that bar again for fear of another Thunder Pussy encounter.

Thankfully, for the rest of the trip the only drunk and obnoxious people we encountered were ourselves.

Today's title selection: If That Ain't Country - David Alan Coe