At the moment when the space shuttle exploded, I was walking down a sandy dirt road through azaleas and scrub pines. I was whistling and smoking a cigarette, hands in my pockets, not a care in the world. I'd ditched the rocket launcher right after firing. Those babies lock onto a target and that's all she wrote. No worries: Too much ground to search, too much confusion and not enough manpower.

I was home free, with a fat check coming and a sense of pride in a job well done. I just kept on walking. I sang "The Weight" as I walked down that road, and then I sang "Juanita", the old Flying Burrito Brothers tune, and then I sang a few more. I have to tell you, I never felt that good before nor since.