It all started with pretty Connie Larson who runs the Home Cafe along with Norbie, her husband, on the main drag of Cripple Creek, Colorado. Cripple Creek is one of the biggest "ghost towns" in the Rockies, and has been since the gold petered out sometime in the Twenties. Most of the folks packed up and got out before the dust buried 'em all. We were knocking down a bowl of chili at the Home Cafe and listening to Norbie's record of Norbie singing "My Life Ain't Worth A Dime," coming out of his own jukebox, watching Connie pushing the Coors Beer toward us over the linoleum-covered counter. A couple of local old-timers squatted on the stools, arguing about whether the winters were as cold as they used to be or whether all them guys going to the moon has loused up the weather once and for all, and maybe brought on all them California earthquakes. . .