The West has always conjured visions of solitude, independence and stoicism. But it’s more than that.
It’s more than a direction or a place. It’s something you feel, something you share with your amigos, a good kinda loud in the right kinda bar,
two-stepping in the moonlight or under the neon.
It’s a cantina buzz, watering-hole chic, broken-in boots and danced-in high heels. The spirit of the real West can’t be tamed, but it can be captured—in a 12-ounce can of pure Terlingua-style trouble that tastes like an agave plant crossed with a Jerry Jeff Walker song.
If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.