When I Rode the Western Plains

From the Doctor's first slap on the ass, most of us learn from the School of Hard Knocks. 
A chosen few are born on the Street of Dreams. 
Some dive onto the Bourbon Street beat while others linger on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. 
Me? Well shucks. Guess'n I l'arned what I know'ed out on the prairies, up in the mountains and down in the gullies of mah television screen whare ah l'arned it all from these hombres who show'd this tenderfoot the ropes, when I rode the Western Plains. 

For a straight shooter, Roy Rogers was a pretty tricky dude.

Roy Rogers was a stalwart boyhood hero of mine. 

But he wasn't without certain flaws, like the fact that his gun had 87 bullets in it but he never seemed to be able to hit anyone. Because Roy couldn't shoot straight, he had to make his hoss, Trigger, run the bad guys down so he could jump off and roll down the hill before knockin' the offending hombres out with the ol' lefty-righty, ones-y; two-sy. 

Hey, I even overlooked the fact that he had a wife (huh?), sang dopey songs and had Trigger stuffed and mounted (a rather solipsistic thing to do to a friend, I might add).  

For the seven year old life of me I could never figger out how a real cowpoke had a friend who drove a car. When did the western frontier disappear? It must have happened while I was in front of the TV, because I sure missed it. 

But what always surprised me the most about Roy was that when in a tight spot, he wasn't above a little dirty fighting to save the day, as evidenced by this gun in the hat trick - a character flaw I was and remain perfectly willing to overlook as long as he tells me where I can buy one of them!