In my hometown, good kids become insurance salesmen. I did not. At eighteen I moved west to the mountains of Colorado. Sold clothes, raised cattle, financed real estate investors. Lived in the city. Lived in the country. Slept under the stars. On couches. In basements. Climbed rocks, wrecked cars, brewed beer. Loved women. Almost loved women. Hitchhiked, bushwhacked, bivouacked. Sat at backcountry campfires. Drank at backcountry bars. Married. Had a son. Had another. Built a home. Split from my wife. Staying curious. And, still, I’ve wasted most of my time on the internet.