Listen, guys, when it comes to riding the high horse you ain't seen nothin'. No siree. I used to ride a horse so dang high that when I was in the saddle I couldn't even see the ground! I had to pack a parachute just in case of a quick dismount being required, but that horse was good as gold, so I never needed to use the chute. My loyal gal Tuesday (that was her name) would be waitin' for me back at the ranch where we had one of them great big long ladders that are normally used by the fire department and she would prop that ladder up alongside old "Fireball" so I could dismount in relative safety.

Well, the view you would get from atop old Fireball when riding the range was something that would have brought tears to Tom Russell's eyes, lemme tell ya, although the air did get a mite thin up there...so I hadda remember to breathe deep so as not to get lightheaded. Did my lungs a world of good.

I rode old Fireball for many a year until he finally died tragically. Got hit by a low flying fighter jet with some damn pilot who was joyriding around at below 2,000 feet. They should have taken that fool's wings away. He ejected and survived, but the horse and the plane both suffered fatal damage, I'm sorry to say.

So I ain't ridin' the high horse no longer. But God, I have fond memories...