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Though I hate to admit it, I surely dig Ryan Adam's song Cannonball Days. I'm missing Krista something awful tonight. I wish she were here tonight with me, smiling, cuddling, dancing with me as best we can to Glenn Miller--all those things you wish you could do with a bird you've just fell over for. She's that kind of girl, Krista. Amazing, with soft skin and nice breasts--a real ringer. This girl ain't no dummy, either. That's Krista.

Yeah, I've loved a lot of pretty women in my life--most have been real knock-outs. Oh, I tell you, Krista is the best. There ain't another like her nowhere in this city, hell in this country even. Maybe the world. Every cat thinks he's got the best, but I know she's the best. All those love movies and those late-night drunken stories of poor boys who lost their pride don't mean a thing but to give me a good run. If they met this girl, they'd stop talking. And I'd smile, 'cause I know I got the best even though she's a thousand miles away. So I don't tell them my stories anymore.

One day I'm gonna pack up my stuff and take a long drive out to the coast, and Krista will be with me. When we're not driving we'll stop in the crummy juke joints and lousy dustbowl bars full of the mean men who hate the sun and make those poor bastards tell their stories. When the air's turned blue, we'll drive on. I'll buy a car and a case of PBR, and she'll bring a bottle of wine. The day will end and the night begin and there won't be a war between the so-called right and wrong and there won't be war between the rich and poor. No matter what happens in the future or what has happened in the past will mean a damn thing. Out there, in a place illuminated only by the stars and streetlights will be two people rocketing towards something. That's freedom. And I tell you what, that's something. There, on the highway, will just be us.