I love run down bars, I love the smell of the backside of a race track. I stepped off the train one morning, with only city lights to guide me and it had just rained. This particular station was old and composed mostly of timber, that wonderful damp living smell eased me into a nostalgia. I remembered that smell of the old grandstand at the Del Mar horse track, I remembered that smell the first time I tried whiskey. It burned and soothed my throat at the same time, rain drizzled down outside of that old barn as the smell of empty dirt stalls went unnoticed. Now, so far away from them, there is no more pleasent nor foriegn scent than that of something worked and honest.
"Get down close to it. You can feel it travel down the strangs, come through your head and down to your soul where you live. You can feel it. Let it vib-a-rate."
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