I'm just sitting here giving my TiVo time to record Survivor so I can skip all of the commercials. I've got about five more minutes.

Back in 1994 or 1995 I ran out of gas on the way home from pool league. I let my car coast into a driveway - pretty much the only wide spot on that rural King County WA road - and since I was only about a mile from home I just walked.

The next morning I had my roommate drive me to get some gas then drop me off at my car.

What I found at my car was both funny and scary at the same time.

These people had cows. A lot of cows. They also had no fence - just some metal tubes crossing their driveway that the cows couldn't cross without twisting their ankles or whatever.

Do cows even have ankles?

Anyway, I guess my car being parked there must have been just about the most exciting these cows had seen in years.

There must have been three dozen of them, mostly standing but some laying, completely surrounding my car and mooing up a storm.

The cows' excitement at having a car in their midst was trumped only by the presence of an actual human being (my lovely self) and those things crowded around me like photographers around a celebrity. Their moos increased their tempo and volume. I was a rock star to those cows.

Once I'd gassed up my car I pulled out of the driveway. I actually had to nudge cows out of the way with my car.

I felt really bad seeing them as they watched me drive away.

I like to imagine that they made a legend out of my visit, and that they pass the story down from generation to generation.

Moo, my old friends, moo.