In my past life, I used to spend a lot of time at a big cowboy saloon in a little town. Over a period of years, two other saloons were started in surrounding areas. Today, the last one of the three closed. The one that I frequented was only open Friday and Saturday evenings. It became the highlight of my week to leave work on Friday and head right there. Live bands, great bbq and most of all, great people. In time, those visits were the only good part of my life at all.

The place itself wasn't really significant. Rather, the friends I met there - everyone who worked there and all the local people who also stopped by - made it what it was, a few hours to forget about life outside and spend time laughing about nothing, bright moments in my otherwise world of darkness. The only decisions requiring any thought there were whether to have another adult beverage and whether to stay for the band.

During the summer, my old blue Harley would take me to that saloon, sometimes encountering both rain and sun along the way. Upon arrival, the parking lot would have the usual assortment of Harley-Davidsons and pickups, patrons would walk outside occasionally to gaze at the storms moving past. Once inside, the rain didn't matter. It was seeing those friends, listening to their stories of both good and bad things that made up their lives, a relaxation brought on by being around those who you have come to love and trust.

The place didn't make all that good happen, it was just a hub for the people there to be good people on their own. I hope someone in that small town can create another place like that, where my friends will be able to gather and be themselves. I'd ride the 1,000 miles on my new Harley just to visit. And I might not leave.