On Saturday the Lady & I were exploring along the east side of the Sierra Nevada. The hot afternoon called for a stop at Lee Vining’s Mono Cone for some soft serve ice cream. With our cones in hand we walked down a side street to the park and shade and a view of Mono Lake. Parked along the side street were a cowboy and his family, leaning against the end gate of their 4x4 F-350 Super Duty crew cab, enjoying ice cream also. The cowboy was dressed in a worn western dress shirt, blue jeans, boots, and a summer straw that looked like it has seen weather. This wasn’t a recent store bought outfit and looked well at home on his tall, stout, frame. The truck’s bumper was covered with political stickers, some were pretty rough, I thought. Another couple, looked like city folk, was walking ahead of us, returning to their large motor home parked across from the park. The man stopped and loudly began praising the views expressed by the bumper stickers. The cowboy shook his head and with a perfect drawl slowly said, “Ah, you know these here stickers were on this truck when I bought it and Lord knows right now I can’t afford another bumper.”
