Old hat may be done for

About 25 years ago I was browsing the aisles of a Montrose, Colorado, store that sold sporting goods and western wear when I found myself in the hat aisles. I decided right then a felt hat might be just the thing to fend off Colorado mountain weather.

I’d noticed that those great big wet snowflakes made a mess in my ears and spotted up my glasses. At altitude I’d also learned that the sun’s rays were hard on my fair-skinned complexion.

As I was trying on hats some well-meaning bystander offered that I really didn’t want too dark a hat because dark hats were just for the younger guys who made a lot of trouble.

I decided I didn’t want a regular cowboy hat and I wanted something that would take lots of abuse. I settled on a felt crusher Outback-style hat — the kind Crocodile Dundee and Indiana Jones wore. I opted not to buy it in black but a really dark brown instead. I wanted to look young but not like a troublemaker.

I’ve worn that hat every winter since then and in Colorado I often wore it nine months out of the year. I switch to a ball cap during the summer but in the winter I wear that old crusher to the office or wherever I’m going.

It got to be my trademark of sorts. I’ve gotten lots of compliments on that hat and people remember me because I was wearing it.

My dad liked it so much he got one like it but the guy in the store must have convinced him because his was light tan.

Just this week during that really windy day we had my good friend Wild Bill rang me up on my cell phone to tell me he thought he found my hat blowing across the Walmart parking lot. “It was that Indiana Jones kind of hat, so I thought it might be yours,” he said.

I told him I knew right where mine was at because a few days earlier the wind had gotten hold of it and sent it into the fishpond at Oasis State Park. I managed to drag it out with my fishing pole but it smelled pretty bad after I got it home.

I’ve brushed it, cleaned it with a damp cloth and doused it in Febreze over the years but it may be a goner this time.

I’ve gone through a million ball caps over the years, even while owning a crusher. They don’t hold up too well and eventually you have to get rid of them. My dad was famous for the way he rid himself of his soiled seed cap. At the end of the silage season on the last round of the last field he pitched that sweaty, greasy cap into the header and chopped that baby into cow food.

The crusher has been a little hard to turn loose of after so long. I have my late dad’s tan one but it’s just not the same. It hasn’t seen the miles that my dark one has. It doesn’t feel or look right.

I’m going to clean on it some more but if you see me in a dark hat it might be advisable to pass upwind of me for awhile.

Karl Terry writes for Clovis Media Inc. Contact him at: [email protected]