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Riding Shotgun  
With Adventure  

by Ron Langston  

Ron Lancaster

My Personal Hero:
The Brush Man of Texas

Responding to a call only he can hear, he returns to this spot most every weekend, and for months at a stretch, in times of peace and in times of national crisis. The Brush Man of Texas comes to this same spot, and no matter how hot the steamy Texas sun or glare of media cameras, he clears the brush away. Clears it with a devotion seen only in certain species of salmon or Norwegian lemmings. Where the brush comes from or how it piles up, nobody knows. The town of Crawford is home to many ranches, but none seem to have the steady supply of brush as the one belonging to the Brush Man, a man with the unlikely name of Bush.

Armed only with a pair of leather gloves and a smirk that can reduce a man to a trembling saloon girl at 30 paces, the Brush Man continues his never-ending quest to rid his ranch of brush. Whether as small as a handful of twigs or as large as a decent-sized branch, nothing stands in the way of the Brush Man. When the world comes crashing down, and lesser men would bog down with wars and rumors of wars, the Brush Man stays focused on his brush-clearing mission. Some would say it's a mission from God. The Brush Man surely would.

E-mail Ron at

(Transcribed by Slick Sharkey)

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