Ranchers in cowboy hats roll down Main Street in dusty pickups, and Young's Western Wear, purveyor of all things cowboy (jeans, chaps, hats, ropes, saddles) stocks 5,000 pairs of cowboy boots.
The woman took off my hat, and her long blond locks rolled down to places you don't politely look at when speaking to a naked stranger.
Spotting a bearded man in a bright orange jacket and hat heading into the woods with a gun, we rolled down the window and asked, "How you doin'?" "Just fine if you keep going," he answered — which we did.
Jack Joslin, in his cardinal-colored Stanford hat, hit his drive a bit lower than Crandell, but it rolled down the middle, too.
David rolled down his window, and a lean, weathered face under a sweat-stained cowboy hat looked in.
Main character Finn wears a green backpack, black shoes with white rolled down socks, bright blue tee, dark blue shorts and, of course, the funny white hat with knobs on the sides.
He stopped and rolled down the window to talk to Adilise Selistan, a 76-year-old in a floppy hat, eyes hidden behind sunglasses, who was sitting on an emaciated gray horse.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Currie rolled down a window.
She rolled down the window.
