Walking back from DSHS the other day we passed a bar on Pike with all the windows/doors open (Seattle is like New York in the sixties, no A/C) and that haunted, lost, perfect aching "high lonesome" voice floated out with one line to catch my heart like a hook: I put my foot to the floor to make up for the miles I've been losing / I've been running out of things I didn't even know I was using....
