This was the scene less than 48 hours before our car rolled out of town. A gathering of hundreds of our best friends, family, colleagues, in-laws, outlaws, Webb Wilder… you get the picture. If you look closely around my balls, you’ll see the smiling face of the man who’s had my back for years, Dave Kennedy. I’m standing on the thighs of giants, Supe Granda and John Bohlinger. My closest ally in the songwriting world for the past 25 years, Jay Knowles (to the left), may have just thrown up before he went on stage from a bad hamburger the night before. And if you’re looking at the right side of your radio, you’ll see Jim Fungaroli. As always, it was his birthday. Special thanks to Mike Grimes and the crew. I may be the only man alive who didn’t have to pay for production playing at one of Grimey’s venues. Maybe because I have a hot wife. Or maybe he’s just a really good old friend. I don’t know. Thank you, Nashville, for 30 good years. Until next time.