It seems we've been writing a lot of these types of stories lately. You know, the ones extolling the virtues of Billy-Bobhood. We don't know if it's going to be the next big craze or what, but if you remember the cowboy epidemic in the late '70s (John Travolta as a mechanical bull rider? Come on!), then you know anything is possible. At the very least, it allows us to clear out the photo files of stuff we'd like to share with you but otherwise wouldn't have the chance to. If yokeldom becomes the next rage, we'll look like visionaries. If not, we'll probably just get a lot of hate mail from readers upset that we wasted magazine space.
If you walk around in overalls and no shirt, hang a sprig of alfalfa out your teeth as a fashion accessory, and live on a diet composed primarily of jerky and Pabst Blue Ribbon, then turn the page because you're already there. If you haven't jumped on that bandwagon yet, then we'd like to delve into the murky abyss with you. So come one and come all and enter with us into the realm of four-wheeling yokeldom.