Your combines, your tractors, your threshers, and your general farming equipment has caught my attention. I should be watching the road but I just can't seem to look away. It happens every year.
Your operation of your machinery has impaired my ability to operate my machinery. I should be watching the road but instead I'm watching you. It wouldn't be an issue if it wasn't for that turn, that waning moon stretch of road that goes forever.
It was smooth enough, the transition that found me in your field, kicking up dust with my all wheel drive wagon.
“So this is farming,” said the man from town wearing prescription sunglasses.
“Are we at the fair?", my daughter would ask, if she was in the car. She asks that anytime the car is in a field, because generally if we are in a field, it is because the field is temporarily a parking lot for a local fair.
But my daughter is not in the car, because I am on my way to the bar. You read that right, I'm on my way there. One hundred percent un-intoxicated. But even if I were coming home from the bar, where I had only a Firestone Walker Double Jack (0.51 wOBAR; 7.85 BAR at the time of this writing), and perhaps, just perhaps, a shot of blackberry schnapps, I think that the alcohol would have little to do with my current situation.
“No officer, I was watching the farming.”
“Could you step out of the car.”
Suddenly, I'm a chameleon, an actual man-sized chameleon, just silently staring at the cop from the driver's seat of my car. My strange sticky lizard hands re-adjust on the steering wheel and I slowly lick the side of me face with my strange sticky lizard tongue. Only one of my lizard eyes is looking at him.
“Sir, please step out of the car.”
I change colors to match the interior of my car.*
The reality of my situation though, just to get back on track here, is me driving through a dry, flat field when I should be driving on a dry, flat road. Oh, and I'm listening to jazz – John Coltrane and Johnny Hartman – that I bought because of a Billy Collins poem I read. And specifically, I am listening to jazz because I was driving alone and I always found it comical how a certain female lead in a certain television drama about homeland security listened jazz when she was alone. I always found it odd that “listens to jazz while alone” was written into her character. I would chuckle and say, “Oh jeez, she's alone, she's gonna put some jazz on,” and, well, that is exactly what would happen.
So when I got into my car, alone, to go to the bar in the next town over, more to get wings than beer, I thought, “I am alone, I should put on some jazz.”
The last time I got into my car alone, without Wife or Child, I thought, “I am alone, I wish I was a certified public investigator. I wonder if they offer those classes at the community college where Wife works.”
They don't. Or at least Wife is 99.7% sure that they don't. They do, however, offer a weapons training course, per the conversation Wife and I just had. The weapons are not provided. Maybe it's me, but something about a “Bring Your Own Weapons” course seems flawed. What if I bring a brick? Or a grenade? Or an electric eel? Or a weird pair of nun-chucks that was just two vibrating dildos tied together (I saw it on the Internet)? Or something totally new that no one has ever seen before. Then what? I guess I'll find out next Wednesday night.
Double Jack, Firestone Walker Brewing Co.
Appearance = 4.5/5
Shiny golden orange, a bit hazy, about a quarter inch of white head with decent lacing down the glass.
Smell = 4/5
Tropical fruit, citrus, and slight alcohol or caramel sweetness. I drank half out of my Speigelau IPA and the other half out of a tulip, side by side. Not much of a difference in the smell. Maybe a bit more of an herbal hint to the aroma out of the IPA glass.
Taste = 4.5/5
Very bright citrus and tropical fruits up front. Maybe peaches or nectarine or something like that. A pine taste builds as the malt balances it out. The sweetness from the fruit flavors in the hops blends nicely into the subtle malt and alcohol sweetness in the finish. Again, I noticed very little difference between the IPA glass and the tulip, at least compared to previous comparisons. It was definitely brighter up front out of the IPA glass and the pine and malt finish was more subdued or spread out. The tulip offered a more solid or heavy build of the pine bitterness in the finish. I had a tough time deciding which glass I preferred. It was amazing out of both.
Mouthfeel = 5/5
I love the slick oil feel of this beer as it warms – really nice compliment to the different flavors that emerge from the hops. Nice carbonation, actually, near perfect carbonation. In the IPA glass, the carbonation was more noticeable on the front end of a sip.
Overall = 4.5/5
Just awesome. Probably my favorite DIPA that is readily available to me.
*Not real. Just another installment of the "drunk chameleons getting pulled over by cops" sub-reality brought to you by Beer On My Shirt, which began over here.
Follow J. R. Shirt on Twitter @beeronmyshirt.