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| - I needed an AC compressor for my 69 Bug. Rather than spend an arm and a leg for a new, aftermarket compressor, I thought I'd give them a call and see if I could find one used. A young man with a baritone voice and a hint of country twang answered my call. I think he said his name was Dwight, but I could have sworn he said his name was Heaven, because that's exactly where I was when talking to him... anyways, he told me that they didn't even make an AC compressor for a 69 Bug... after a few moments of contemplation, I realized that he was 100 percent correct. That's what I get for smoking my breakfast for the past 10 years... we exchanged our goodbyes, but I didn't feel as though I had gotten enough. I yearned to meet this man in person. Something about his country boy attitude and quick wit had me intrigued. So I hopped in my Peterbilt and drove down from Apache Junction. And boy oh boy was it worth the drive! I stepped foot in the main office, and I knew right away which one Dwight was. He might be the most handsome gentleman in the entire valley. His long hair flowed like a horses mane. His beard looked as though Zeus himself had grown it for him and placed it on his chiseled jaw.... wow.... so anyways, I tell him who I am, and he does this cute thing of "pretending" that he doesn't know me. Oh, Dwight!... I explained to him that I wasn't even sure why I came in, other than to meet him in person. He gave me a confused, yet friendly look. After a few minutes of explaining my feelings towards him, he unfortunately broke the bad news to me that he "don't swing that way, dude." That's ok, Dwight. You were very helpful, and I appreciate the knowledge that you passed on to me. Hell, if it weren't for you I might still be searching the Internet for that AC compressor! Thanks again, Hoss!
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