I'll feel way bad if you don't register up at Redpoint University Forums.
No sh#t, there I was, mac'n down some pasta after a long day of craggin' when some headlights flooded my table. Ears were listening to the music coming from Dwights' decelerating Porsche. You know, that tune that only a Porsche engine sing. The engine is cut and out of the night steps this dude built like a brick sh#t house, silhouetted by the lights. Who the f*#k is this? Dude strides up to me, extends their hand, and says; "Hello, I'm John Long. Mind if I share your campsite?" John Long? My hero sharing my campsite? F*#k yeah!!
Dumb struck, I at least had the presence of mind to advise you to park out of reach of Team Husky, lest they mark those expensive Perrelli's, before you took off to party w/the other stone masters and such.
We crossed paths a few more times over the years. I think your memory should be jogged now?