I’ve written so many biographies about myself, I’m unsure how much of it’s true, they say a lie told often enough is hard to tell from the truth. But being a man of few words, and even fewer interesting stories I’ll stick as close to the truth as I can without embarrassing myself:Born and raised on ranches where my dad worked, I spent the majority of my time training stick horses for the kids who had never handled a “green” stick horse before—wait, that might be something from someone else’s bio. If I’da known I’d have to write it down later, I would have tried to live a more interesting childhood. I was just another kid raised on a ranch, doing chores and wishing I’d been born rich. I left home at the age of fourteen at the urging of my parents and spent the next sixty-some-odd years trying to find my niche in life. I rode colts, milked cows, hauled hay, rodeo’d, and spent my spare time trying to draw like Will James (but never made it) and dabbled some in writing poetry. I eventually got a little place of my own and managed to eke out a meager living, always fighting the urge to ship a few “neighbor calves” to the sale. I’m fairly respected by my neighbors; that’s not saying much, because when you live in California almost everything is legal.