Toe-tappin' greatness. My gods, cruising Virginia Street in the 70s, then heading for a kegger at the flumes...the young ones will never know what was taken from them. Thank heavens I got to see it.

(And once, a stop at the newly rebuilt Mustang Ranch. High steel gates, buzzed in, enter a hallway with plush carpet and large old saloon-style paintings of call girls on the walls...enter the atrium, a high dome with skylights...and there, glory of glories, are lined up 30 pretty girls in skimpy lingerie, the old black madam with a pointer walking along and naming each one. I was all of 17.)