READING ON THE FORK LIFT

My cousin was a hip guy, older than me and a child of the sixties and seventies, a fact he'd often rub in.

"I saw THE DOORS when I was 13," he'd always say, "and didn't even pay attention."

I was an 80's kid and was never sure if my cousin thought I was cool, but he saw me at work once, sitting on a fork lift reading this book by Hunter S. Thompson that, because of the politics and my current opinions therein, I probably couldn't finish today but back then, with a voracious appetite for counter-culture literature, I ate it up like a piranha does to rambling river cattle.  

And best yet, I was cool. At least while I was reading.