Never in my lifetime had I ever predicted needing a cowboy hat, but finding myself at the World…read moreEquestrian Games in Lexington, KY, I came to the conclusion that wearing a cowboy hat was absolutely essential, though not at all for the reason one might guess. How I came to this unexpected conclusion goes something like this: Horses. Lots of horses. At the World Equestrian Games, horses are celebrities, people are not. I was inundated in horses, and wherever they were moving, everything else stopped. Being a suburban kid, seeing one horse for me is a novelty, let alone a hundred. Now this is how you know I am American: horses = cowboys. In most other parts of the world, horses = top hats and jodhpurs, but here in the U.S., the younger, more rebellious nation, the culture of horses is invariably linked with that of cowboys and the Wild, Wild West. At least to someone as uneducated as me, it is. So I already had cowboys on the brain due to my environment at the horse park. There weren't any cowboys to be seen, but I was certain they were around somewhere just out of sight, most likely carousing at the saloon to the strains of honkytonk pian-y or ropin' cattle on the back forty. Come 10am on the first day, the sun is now high enough to beat on me mercilessly for hours on end. It has been a few years since I have been outdoors for an extended period of time, and I was already doing the calculations: if the sun is this brutal now, this is going to be a VERY long 29 3/4 days. "This sucks! I need a cowboy hat!" Come hell or high water, I was buying a cowboy hat at lunch time. I asked a local where one might find the local cowboy hat store. He had no idea, and was surprised I actually asked such a weird question. When I suggested that it might be because he didn't have horses he told me he kept eight. "There is no way you have horses!" I told him. "If you did, you would know where to get a cowboy hat." He smiled and shrugged good-naturedly in a way I eventually learned was so typical of Kentucky. "People don't wear those around here. You're thinkin' of Texas, maybe." Clearly, he was wrong. I was certain that Kentucky retail had to be veritably oozing with cowboy hats. At lunch, my friends asked where I was going. "I'm going up to that gas station to buy a cowboy hat." Some of them were puzzled, while others laughed uproariously. It was generally implied that I had already gotten too much sun and was now seeing cowboy hat mirages at every oasis on the horizon. When they suggested it was somewhat ludicrous that I expect a gas station of all places to have western millinery, I insisted: "This is Kentucky! EVERYWHERE sells cowboy hats!" Never mind this was my first day in Kentucky and had yet to set foot anywhere besides the hotel. In retrospect, I can't really say why I was so certain that this gas station in the middle of nowhere sold cowboy hats, but there they were! Not just a few, but an entire rack of cowboy hats! I found the perfect white mesh cowboy hat and a white pair of fat southern sheriff shades to match. What makes this so much funnier to me is that the entire rest of the month I spent in Kentucky, I never again saw anywhere at all that had cowboy hats for sale. I just lucked out in my ignorance picking the one place at random that did on the first try. Feeling ten times the man I was when I walked into the gas station, due to both my new hat and overwhelmingly justified righteousness, I strutted back on down the hill to where my friends were waiting. Those previously puzzled were now the ones laughing uproariously, and vice versa. In my best accent and triumphant smile I gave them my best "Now what we've got here is a *failure* to COMMUNICATE!" It was like a whole new day in that glorious hat! It was easily ten degrees cooler under the shade of the cowboy hat. Not only that, people were nicer. I was regularly greeted by friends and strangers alike with "Hey, cowboy!" without the slightest trace of mockery. And once I even got the southern belle behind the concession stand batting her eyelashes at me as I walked by: "Yooohooo! Heyy, cowboyy! Ayew wanna buyyyy somethin'?" I told her the instant I needed Karamel Korn and vodka lemonade I would come to see her first. When the storm clouds rolled in, the genius design of my hat directed the water completely away from my face. Simply put, Everything was better with the cowboy hat. So if you find yourself in Kentucky, and in need of a little weather protection, or a little fashion flavor, or just a change in perspective, Shell has got you covered.

Poor breakfast sandwiches: my bacon, egg and cheese biscuit could be best described as edible…read more Bacon was limp, eggs were flat and nonexistent, and the biscuit was burger bun. The only thing decent was the cheese. Spend your money at a real breakfast place instead. But if you want gas...this the best thing they offer!