Billy Bob plays his banjo at Smittys super service station

I wandered over toward the old country gas pumps by the outpost store to take a look around. Leaning against a rough wooden post, I spotted an empty vintage glass soda bottle sitting on a stack of firewood. When the midday sun hit the amber glass, it threw a warm golden glare across the gravel. I leaned forward and tapped the neck of my instrument gently against the rim. It gave off a bright, crystal ping that bounced off the wooden siding, sweet as a bell.